


Losing Sam

by phantisma



Series: Keeper Verse [36]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-13
Updated: 2007-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:24:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 65,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Losing Sam is a story written in sections, three arcs, written by myself and my friend M.</p><p>Following Dana's graduation from High School, the Winchester 3 (Sam, Dean and Dana) head to Yosemite for Sam's desired rock climbing adventure. While there things happen that could change their lives forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arc 1

**Post Dana’s High School Graduation, July **  
****

Dean reached for the rag and stared down at the engine block sitting on the table. He’d been working on the damn thing for hours and, frankly, wanted to beat it with a crowbar. Why he was attempting to rebuild it was beyond him at this point. The thing had been a piece of crap fifteen years ago. Old Man Harper had never taken decent care of his Impala.

“I told you that thing was beat,” John chimed in from a chair across the room.

Dean looked at his father, whose head was tilted back against the wall, legs spread out in front of him, sipping a brew, obviously enjoying Dean’s pain way too much.

“Did I ask your opinion?” Dean spat at him.

John smiled. “No, but listen to your old man. Don’t waste any more time on that goddamn thing. Life’s way too fuckin’ short.”

Dean wanted to pitch his rag and go get a cold beer and slouch back with his father, but, Dean Winchester was a stubborn guy; there hadn’t been an Impala engine that had ever defeated him before and today was not going to be the first.

“Just sit there and drink, dude. I’ll have this baby purring by nightfall.”

And, until his dying day, Dean would remember saying that to his father...because you always remember exactly what you did or said immediately before your world crashed down around you.

The very next moment, he saw a small shadow by the big garage door. With years of practice studying shadows, he squinted against the sunlight and tried to focus, place the source. The next thing he knew, Aristotle came running across the room and crashed down in front of him, shaking and panting hard, tongue lolling out of her mouth. Dean bent down, about to ask her where Sam was, when he saw that her paws were a bloody mess.

 

**Post Dana’s High School Graduation - Mid-June**

It had turned into a series of compromises. Well, more like Sam conceded on things to eliminate Dean’s every, very vocal, complaint.

First of all, Sam scrapped climbing the Grand Tetons. Dean heard they’d have to camp and that was that. “You know I hate camping Sammy,” was repeated in various tones and decibel levels anytime the subject was even thought about for a week.

So, Sam switched to Yosemite, where they could stay at Yosemite Lodge.

Next, flying was scrapped. Dean was adamant on that. “Not flying, dude, not happening.”

So, they had to drive all the way to California.

Sam and Dana wanted to spend two weeks. Dean wouldn’t hear of it, wanted only one day of climbing. Dana challenged him on that one and they argued for hours. “You trained for months to climb for one day, Dad? How does that make any sense even in your engine-oil addled brain?”

Sam thought Dana was brilliant but kept his mouth shut. He actually wanted to get laid again in this lifetime.

The itinerary ended up as two days of shared driving with four days at Yosemite, for a total of eight days away. Dean agreed, grumbled, but agreed.

A few days after graduation, Sam, Dean and Dana headed out in a very packed SUV, climbing equipment stowed in a carrier on top, and the rest of the essentials in the back. Aristotle had alternately cried or whined the entire night before, somehow knowing she was being left with Papa. Sam even let her crawl into bed with them in an attempt to appease her. That only resulted in up close and personal whining. From the look on Scott’s face as they drove out of the driveway, Sam suspected he might be shedding a few tears shortly after their departure too.

Dana did the vast majority of the driving, with Dean asleep in the back, sprawled all over, and Sam dozing on and off in the passenger seat.

Somewhere in Nevada, Dean sat up, rubbed his eyes. “I just wanna know, why the hell are we doing this?”

Dana half-glanced at him in the rear view mirror. “Well, Sam wants to climb, some weird ass making up for lost time thing. You’re here because Sam promised you summit sex. And I pretty much hate being left out.”

Dean cuffed the back of her head, none too gently. “Watch your mouth young lady…and pull over somewhere, I gotta piss.”

They all burst into laughter.

 

 

**Yosemite, Day 1 Afternoon**

Dana slammed the car door and exclaimed, “Motherfucker, can you believe this place?”

They stared up at El Capitan from the valley floor.

“Please Sam. Tell me we aren’t climbing that,” Dean asked, as he pointed.

“Nope. We’re climbing far less challenging rock. But, we’re climbing that someday, dude.”

Dean muttered, “Over my dead body,” under his breath but loud enough to be heard.

As they were standing together and staring up, a young guy in his early 20’s ambled up to them, long curly, dirty blonde hair hanging below his shoulders, pierced ears, raggedy shorts hanging off slender hips, boots, no shirt, tattoo of some mountain adorning his left pec.

He held his hand out to Sam. “I’m Travis. You’re Sam, right?” he drawled in a soft southern accent.

Sam looked at Travis’s tan face, nodded in affirmation, reached for the proffered hand and shook. A quick image ran though Sam’s head, his hands gripping Travis’ ripped abs, his cock buried in him deep. It was a flash, and disappeared almost instantly, but Sam felt a flush of pure lust rush forehead to toes.

Travis turned and shook Dean’s hand and then Dana’s, lingering with her a couple more beats than strictly necessary.

“So, tell me about y’alls experience,” Travis said, his eyes on Dana's face.

Dana listed off the extent of their training and the practice climbs they'd done back home.

Travis listened, eyes firmly fixed on her, inserted a few questions to glean more specifics. When she finished, he asked, “And ya wanna climb After Six and Munginella, with a rest day bah-tween?”

Dana bobbed her head. Travis smiled, “Okey dokey. Tomorra, I’ll test y’all. If all’s good, we do After, a rest day, and then ascent Mungie the next.” He paused and raised an eyebrow in challenge to Dana. “But, you ain’t gettin’ no rest. The guys can rest. Ya don’t look like ya need it.”

Sam cleared his throat. It was like watching some nature show on the mating rituals of long-haired climbers. Dean looked first at Sam and then at Dana. Dana tossed her head, rising to the subtle challenge, and stood up slightly straighter so that she was only a few inches shorter than Travis. Looked him square in the eyes. “You’re right. I don’t want a rest day.”

That earned her a big, white sunburst of a smile from Travis and a rock star worthy shake of his mane of curls. “Ok then. See y’all tomorra,” and shook all their hands. He took three steps before stopping and turning back to Dana, “Climbin’ camp’s about two miles thatta way,” pointing east, “We party every night startin’ aroun’ 9ish. Just ask for Rockboy.” And he bounded off, curls bouncing, sweat glistening on his back.

“Stop staring at his very fine ass, Dana,” Dean teased.

Sam shook his head, realizing he was staring at Rockboy’s very fine ass as well.

 

 

**Yosemite Lodge, Night 1**

“So, what do you think of Travis?” Dean asked from the bathroom.

“I think he is a skilled climber and came to us highly recommended as a guide. And I think he likes our little girl just fine,” Sam replied from his spot sprawled on the King sized bed.

Dean came out of the bathroom, wiping his face with a towel. “I think our little girl liked what she saw too,” he said. He tossed the towel at Sam. “And she wasn’t the only one.” he added teasingly.

Sam turned his head slightly towards Dean. “Huh?”

“Don’t play dumb, Sam. I caught your initial impression of Rockboy, loud and clear,” Dean smiled and grabbed the towel back to rub through his hair.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sam managed to sound exasperated, though his heart rate was speeding up as the image filled his head again.

Dean smirked, like he was enjoying this a bit too much. “Sam, the kid gave you a rush. He’s a good looking kid. No harm in looking or in imagining him bent over for you.”

Sam turned beet red, rubbed his face and the words rushed out, “God, Dean, I am so fucking sorry. Shit. I am so sorry.” Dean saw. It wasn’t bad enough Sam imagined it, Dean saw.

“Sammy, relax, you got about a two second thrill. No big deal.” Dean turned back to the bathroom.

Sam jumped off the bed and put himself between Dean and the bathroom door. “Yes, it is a big deal. I was way out of line to even think it. God, I am so fucking sorry.”

Dean put a hand on Sam’s chest. “Dude, do you seriously think I haven’t leered after a slew of men and women in the past eighteen years? Quit feeling guilty. You just didn’t lock it down quick enough. No biggie Sam.”

Sam looked beyond mortified. In a small voice, he said to Dean, “Tell me what to do to make it up to you. Anything.”

Dean reached out and stroked his face. “Sammy, stop with the guilt. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It is no big deal…even if his ass is nicer than mine.” Dean stepped toward the bathroom. Sam put a hand on his chest to stop him.

Sam purred, “His ass isn’t nicer than yours. No one’s ass is nicer than yours. Please, let me make this up to you.”

Dean laughed and pitched the towel over Sam’s head; it landed on the bathroom floor. “Outdoor sex. I want you to grab me by the stomach, bend me over a rock and make me one with nature.”

Dean laughed as he felt Sam’s libido react to the suggestion. _That I can accommodate, baby._ Dean leaned toward Sam but stopped when they heard a knock on the door.

Sam called out, “Come in, Dana.”

The lock popped open and the door opened itself. Dana stood on the other side in her hiking boots, combat pants, hair in a pony tail with a green bow; she looked like Hiker Barbie. She strode through the door which closed with a snap behind her.

“Please tell me that no one was out in the hall to see that little display.” Sam looked at her sternly.

Dana huffed, “Of course not.” And threw herself into a chair. “So, I’m going to the hiking camp to check things out. That’s okay, right?” Dana looked calm and serene except for the nail she was biting.

Dean crossed the room and squatted down next to her. “Yeah, it’s fine. Keep your connection to Sam open though so we know you’re okay.” And he kissed her on the forehead.

Dana looked like she wanted to say or ask something more. But she swallowed it down and kissed his forehead in return. 

 

 

**Yosemite – Day 2**

The sun rose shortly after 6 a.m. Or course, when Sam and Dana suggested they meet up with Travis at 6 a.m., Dean had come unglued. “You’re making me climb a zillion year old rock and I have to do it sleep-deprived? You are fucking kidding me, right?”

Sam told him to stop whining like a thirteen year old and suck it up. Dana laughed, earning her another cuff to the side of the head that only made her laugh harder. After a ridiculous amount of haggling and name-calling, they agreed to get up at 6 in order to meet Travis at 7 near their SUV.

Sam knew Dean was dying to ask her about her night out, because he knew what time she'd come back from the camp and Sam had caught the happy vibes that rippled off of her. Sam slipped a hand along his back, sending _casually_. Dean shrugged internally. While they trudged from the lodge toward the meeting point, Dean asked Dana about climbing camp, as casually as he could muster on a single cup of coffee which was still in his hand. Dana grinned, turning to look at him, walking backward a ways. “I learned a lot of technical stuff, met some really cool people--They live in that camp all summer, even though technically they aren’t supposed to." She turned around and slung an arm through Dean's, bubbling out mentally as much as verbally in a way Sam hadn't seen since Scott first entered her life. It was like Mt. St. Dana had erupted again. "There's like...fifty of them, guys and girls, serious grade A climbers, total hotshots.” Her whole face alight with excitement and if they'd been standing still instead of walking, Sam imagined she'd be bouncing. “Travis is great. He introduced me to everybody and fed me this delicious chocolate cherry cake they cooked over the camp fire. And they really do call him Rockboy. He’s been climbing since he’s eight, climbed on every continent but Antarctica.” /p >

Dean and Sam exchanged a look as they approached their SUV, where Rockboy, now with a shirt on and hair tied in a pony tail with a leather cord, was performing a Yoga sun salutation.

Travis looked up at them, “Good mornin’ y’all. How’s the track champ this mornin’?” He grinned while wrapping himself into a pretzel.

Dana squirmed, “She’s ready to climb, dude.”

Travis unwrapped his limbs from their seemingly painful position and stood up, “Glad to hear it.”

The four of them unloaded the climbing gear.

“Ya’ll got nice stuff,” Travis commented, after checking Dana out head to toe, twice. It was rather muddled as to whether he was referring to the climbing gear or Dana or both until he added, “Good equipment’s important when climbin’.”

Dana pretended she didn’t notice his attention, but her delight at his interest was seeping out in waves.

_Turn down the jets Dana. You are spilling out all over._ Sam advised sternly.

Dean sputtered coffee, smirking at the two of them. Dana gave them both a warning look but didn’t reply verbally or psychically, although she did lock down her emotions a couple of levels.

Sam smiled, first at Dana, then at Dean. _Thanks sweetie, much better._ She glared but kept quiet.

Travis ran them through some drills on some small rock outcroppings not too far from the climbing camp. By 9 a.m., he pronounced them fit to proceed, telling Sam and Dean, “You guys are pretty good, especially for not being so young.”

_I hate this kid, ya know?_ Dean thought at Sam.

Sam choked down a laugh. _We were this kid, babe._

Dean nodded his head. _Yeah, back when we were YOUNG._

Sam maintained a straight face, though the images he sent Dean were far from straight. _Gonna make you feel twenty tonight, baby._

They were interrupted by a loud blast from Dana, _Guys, you’re leaking all over. And, you had the nerve to tell ME to tone it down!_

Dean chuckled and Sam flushed a little red, taking his own advice and locking down a little better. And so they climbed. Travis took the lead, followed by Dana, Sam and Dean. And miracle of miracles, Dean didn’t complain once. In fact, Sam was fairly sure Dean was actually enjoying himself. He focused on the climb like he did on a hunt, found himself a pace and settled in to the course. It was about an hour in, he was leaning back in his harness and flipping 360’s, grinning at Sam like a loon and maybe admitting in his own head that this whole thing was kind of fun. Dana chastised him about goofing around and not being serious. "Just trying to have fun, kiddo. You know – for an old guy.” Dean quipped back.

There was only one mishap, a small one at that. Sam’s foot slipped about three-quarters of the way up the ascent but the safety snapped instantly, doing its job perfectly. Even with that tiny thing, that was over before it started, Sam felt Dean’s heart race. _I’m fine babe, relax._ Dean didn't relax, not until they'd reached the top and Sam slipped an arm around him, pulling him in close. _I'm fine._

They stood quietly there at the top for a while before Dean stirred. "Yeah, okay. I guess maybe I kind of understand why." Sam smirked and kissed him lightly.

Dana watched her father's face as Sam whispered in his ear, then turned away, glancing at Travis. "So, what's El Capitan's view like?" Travis smiled that mega-watt smile of his that warmed her belly, and his fingers gently re-arranged an errant lock of her hair behind her ear. “El Cap’s views aw-w-we-some but…even better from Half Dome.” He shuffled his feet and stammered, “Uh, maybe tomorra ya wanna do the Half Dome hike? Have to start early though, ittza long day…but way fun.”

Dana averted her eyes to hide her pleasure and replied coyly, “I’ll think about it. Good view, huh?”

After the obligatory 1000 pictures, a picnic lunch of sorts and Winchester trash talk about best form and speed, they rappelled down. Being Winchesters, it had to become a contest, so Travis went down first and then timed the next three. Dana watched Sam and her father go, and readied herself to go last. "Nice." Travis said, showing his watch to Dana. "Best by almost three seconds." She danced around her father and Sam in victory. _Your dad thinks you cheated._ Sam told her.

She slugged Dean in the arm, hard. Dean choked on his water, grabbed her into a bear hug and swung her around. Dana kicked her legs and squealed in delight.

Travis looked at the three of them. “Ya know? I lead lots of families and see all kinda stuff. But never saw a family as cool as ya’ll. Ya’ll know what each other’s thinkin’ and shit. Ya’ll kinds of lucky, ya know?”

 

 

**Yosemite – Day 2, Dinner, Ahwanee Lodge**

They dug into their steaks and baked potatoes, while Dana chattered about technique and skills and climbing lingo, all the things she had learned in the couple of hours she had spent the night before with the climbers. Long after the meal was consumed, Sam and Dean nursed their beers and continued to listen to her. _She’ll be off to school soon. Will you be able to handle that?_ Sam asked, watching Dean watch her.

_Yeah, won’t be easy though._

Sam squeezed Dean’s knee under the table. _You want that nature experience tonight?_

Dean put his hand on Sam’s and inched it up to rest on the top of his thigh. _Hate to admit it, but I’m exhausted. Damn kid’s right, not young anymore. Wouldn’t mind getting my cock sucked though._

“Damn it. I’m trying to talk here, telling you important, life-affirming stuff. Will you two quit flirting with each other?” Dana exclaimed, exasperated with them.

Dean snorted and put his elbows on the table, leveling his best father gaze at her. “So, enough about all of that. Tell us what you think about Rockboy?”

Dana put on her best angelic, innocent look. “He’s a great climber.”

“That he is,” Sam replied. “And you weren’t so bad yourself today although I thought you would slip up since your eyes were stuck on his ass and not on your climbing.”

“That’s not true,” she squaled, a touch too loudly. She squirmed when she realized she had taken the bait perfectly. “Ok, a little true but I was admiring his legs more than his ass, and his technique. And he’s nice…different, confident, funny…”

“Decided on where you’re hiking tomorrow?” Sam asked, sitting back with his beer.

Dana smiled then. “Half Dome hike. Can’t let him think I’m a pussy.”

“No, couldn’t have that sweetie,” Sam concurred. He chuckled and rubbed Dean’s leg under the table. He was getting a pretty good read on just how much she was into the kid, and let a little of it bleed over for Dean's benefit.

Dana rose to leave. “I’m going to hiking camp for about an hour, ‘kay?” She started to leave and then turned back. “You like Travis, right? His crack about your age wasn’t meant to be mean.”

Sam looked at her. “Your Greek god is great, Dana. We like him a lot, even if he thinks we’re old.” Sam squinted at her, “We do realize we aren’t young anymore.”

Dean slugged Sam, “Speak for yourself, old man.”

She kissed each of them on their cheeks and whispered ‘I Love You’ into their ears.

As she turned to leave, Sam added, “Ah, Dana, I put something in your pack, in case you need it.”

She looked puzzled but nodded and headed out.

“What did you put in her pack?” Dean asked, turning to Sam.

“Condoms.” 

**Yosemite, Day 3 – Evening/Night**

Dean dug in his pocket for the key card to their room. Sam and Dana trailed behind him.

“Going to climbing camp or too tired?” Sam asked Dana as he draped his arm around her shoulders.

“Am tired,” she said with a yawn, “but still gonna go for an hour or so.”

Dean turned and looked at both of them. He had managed to keep his mouth shut. She was leaving for college in a matter of weeks. She’d be away, too far for her connection to Sam to reach and assure them she was okay. And she’d be doing whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, thousands of miles from them. He figured that he had to learn that he no longer had control over her life. He didn’t like it but it was true.

Yet, it was hard to watch his baby run off, maybe do something she would regret. He wanted to say something, remind her of Scott pining for her at home, alone. So, he cleared his throat and opened his mouth. But, reluctantly, he closed it again and turned and walked into the room. Now was as good of a time as any to not interfere with her choices, hard as that was.

Dana leaned her head into the room after him and said, “Love ya’ Dad, see you at 8 to climb,” and she was off.

Sam closed the door behind him. “What’s up babe?”

“She’s going to sleep with him.”

“Yeah, it looks like a decent possibility.”

“Should we have said something?”

“What would we say? We hardly have the purest of histories in terms of sex lives, before one another. She’s young, he’s smitten with her,” Sam smiled softly. “As to Scott, they’re going to be on opposite coasts in a few weeks anyway, leading separate lives. This might be technically uncool on her part but it’s going to happen naturally soon enough anyway.”

Dean reached for the bottle of Jack on the shelf and poured two healthy glasses. He and Sam had spent the day at the pool, drinking beer and enjoying the sunshine and each other. They had managed not to discuss Dana or Travis all day. It had been wonderful. But it couldn’t be avoided after her two hour recounting of the Half Dome hike, filled with the Travis documentary reel.

Dean swallowed down half a glass of whiskey and refilled his glass. “When she was younger, she was headstrong and independent but we got to tell her what to do and straightened her out when she messed up. Now, shit…,” he rubbed his face.

Sam came up behind him, reached for his glass and downed it. “What say we drink half of this bottle and head out for that back-to-nature experience?”

 

 

It was eleven and Dana was heading back to the Lodge. She was walking slowly, alternately illuminating her way along the path with her flashlight and staring up at the stars. She’d never seen a night sky so full of tiny dots of light. It seemed impossibly beautiful, especially matched with the comforting sound of the crickets and soft echo of the leaves as they stirred in the light breeze. If she focused, she could even hear the rumbling of Yosemite Falls.

As she was ruminating on the warmth of the night and the magnificence of the sky, the warmth turned cold. No, not cold exactly – murky. She stopped, stood still. The air temperature hadn’t changed but the composition of the evening had shifted from sweet to sour. Something was off balance. She reached out with her mind, feeling for other mental signatures.

She felt the wrongness again but, as she attempted to focus on it, it started to evaporate, shrinking to a thin trail of dark to nothingness. She mentally scrambled to grasp it and hold on, but to no avail, it was gone. She flung her mind out wider in a scramble to locate any tinge of it and whacked into Sam’s signature, around the bend somewhere. He was blocked off and she audibly gasped, immediately frightened that the murky whatever was a threat to him.

She reached again to determine where he was and ran in that direction.

She ran as quietly as she could, glad she had put on her running shoes instead of her hiking boots. She was heading toward the Falls and it began to ring in her ears. She had no desire to announce her approach and was grateful for the cover of the loud, rushing water. Sam was close, slightly off to the left, near the outcropping they had spotted yesterday when they had checked out the waterfall. She slowed her pace, made a left and froze dead in her tracks.

Sam was there. And her Dad.

And they were not being threatened.

She spun around and shut down every thought and emotion. She covered her mouth and nose to hold in her breath. Shit

She had panicked and failed to associate Sam’s closed off mental signature as the wall he used whenever he and Dean were, ahem, busy. Shit

She hadn’t seen much, only a second, two at most.

But, no girl should ever get even a glimpse of her Dad bent over a rock in a submissive pose with his lover behind…

No, she wouldn’t think of it. She wished desperately that there was a way she could alter her own memories as she had done to others. Shit

Dana started small, silent steps back toward the path, careful not to step on anything that would alert even an ant to her presence.

She made it to the path. There was a bench. She plopped herself onto it, buried her head into her hands and sucked in a long, deep lungful of air and then another three. Her heart rate returned to normal. They hadn’t sensed her there, thank god.

She looked up and stared at the stars that innocently blinked down at her. She reflected on her day; if it had only contained the hike, it would have been memorable. Funny, the hike turned out to be the least significant event of the last twenty-four hours.

When walking to camp, Dana had been fully aware of where it would end. Behind the tents she had leaned over and kissed Travis. He had murmured into her hair, “Are ya sure, sugah?” And she had kissed him harder in response, tongue practically down his throat. He had lifted her and carried her toward his tent, put her down and asked again, “Are ya sure, sugah?” before they crawled inside.

She had thought about Scott, all day while hiking, in fact. And not even her deep attachment to him was going to change how much she craved Travis. She desired Scott, hell, she loved him, but Travis, while polite and considerate, possessed an undeniable, dizzying mix of physical beauty and power.

They’d done it twice. The first time was a flurry of limbs and groans to unleash the sexual tension built-up over the last couple days. Dana had clung to Travis’ curls and he had gripped her tits, after pulling her into his lap and positioning her to grind down on his cock. After lying in his arms for an hour while he ran his fingers over her breasts and belly and up and down her spine, Travis had rolled her towards him and kissed and licked her head to toe and buried his face in her pussy until she came in waves. Then, he had rolled her onto her belly and propped up her hips. With one hand snared in her hair and the other digging into her hip, he entered her pussy from behind and worked his hips until she couldn’t hold in her screams of pleasure. Before he climaxed, he reached around and massaged her clit roughly with his thumb; they had come together and collapsed in an exhausted heap onto his sleeping bag, sweaty and satiated.

And, now to top it off, she just saw her Dad and Sam having quite an outdoor sexual adventure of their own. Hell, she’d always been fully aware that they were into each other. She just never had pondered it more than that.

And despite wishing she could zap it from her mind, the image was right there, etched into her brain matter. Instead of tactfully repressing, she resigned herself to taking a good look and analyzing what she saw.

She had seen her Dad quite submissive and Sam very dominant. Honestly, her perception had been of her Dad as calling the shots, pretty much ruling the relationship. To her, Sam seemed to do things the way Dean wanted a good portion of the time and frankly, until recently, Sam always was in so much pain, she sort of had considered him a semi-invalid. But, her eyes saw what they saw. There was no denying it. Sam had, at least at times, a very assertive role in her parents’ relationship and her Dad seemed to be enjoying it just fine.

Strangely, it didn’t bother her. She’d known since pre-school they were siblings and that it was a big secret, not to be discussed, ever. Compared to that, this was absolutely nothing. Dana found herself smiling up at the stars and gently rocking back and forth.

_Dad and Sam go at it real rough. And they pass the balance of power between them. Good on them. And, after tonight, there’s no denying that I have a thing for casual, kind of forceful sex myself._

Dana shrugged, stood and headed back to the Lodge. She was tired, achy from both the climbing and the sex. If she had to dwell, she’d do it tomorrow.

She reached out mentally, ensuring the murk hadn’t reappeared. Satisfied that her two guys were safe in the forest, she headed toward her bed to get some sleep. 

 

 

**Yosemite, Day 4 – Morning**

“Remind me, if the situation should ever arise again, that getting fucked sprawled over a granite rock is a dumb ass idea,” Dean grumbled as he wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror and looked at his chest, mottled with bruising.

Sam glanced into the mirror and grimaced. The bruises were only starting to color but, in twenty-four more hours, Dean’s chest was going to look like an aubergine wall that had been sponged with a coat of red paint. “Well, I was only fulfilling your request…” Sam stammered.

“Not blaming, dude. Fuck, the sex was awesome. I came like a freight train, pretty sure I petrified a shitload of wildlife." He turned to Sam, his face tight. "Although prolonging the whole thing by keeping that cock ring on me was a nasty trick, babe.”

Sam half-grinned but was sure that the concern on his face was obvious. “I don’t think you should climb today Dean. Those bruises are ugly. It’s going to hurt to move and stretch and only going to get worse.”

“Sure, then Dana can call me a pussy.” Dean's look told Sam that Dean wasn't going to be talked out of climbing, like taking a second relaxing day that might be the end of human kind. “And, how do we explain WHY I’m not climbing, huh genius? She knows full well I didn’t hurt myself.”

Sam left the bathroom and went to his bag, to the first aid kit in his bag. He came back, holding a tube of arnica cream and a bottle of painkillers. Sam handed Dean two pills and pointed at the glass of water then proceeded to rub the cream onto his chest, as gently as possible. After he had massaged in the cream, he turned Dean to face the mirror and stood behind him, chest to back. Sam grasped Dean’s hands in his and opened their connection full bore.

“Not great at this but it might help some,” Sam said. He reached inside for his healing power, touching it then relaxing and trying to flow it across the channel between them. Dean sighed as a pale blue haze colored his vision. The soreness and stiffness abated slightly followed by an overall sense of floating that clouded his thoughts.

It wasn't really like healing him, Sam had never been able to translate that power outside of himself. It was almost like a glamour, a psychic placebo. It would feel good for a while, give Dean a few hours before the chest tightened up again.

After a few minutes Sam let him go and said, “At least let me carry the majority of weight from your pack, babe.”

 

 

**6 P.M. >/b>  
The Munginella climb proved to be even more fun for the Winchesters than After Six. First of all, Munginella had a slightly lesser difficulty rating and three fewer pitches so, bottom line, it was easier. Add in the experience they gained from the prior climb, overall they were able to relax and enjoy it more.**

Regardless of the more comfortable atmosphere, Sam fretted internally all day, knowing the pain each reach and extension caused Dean. Sam blamed himself; he had been too caught up in the intense pleasure of the moment. He really should have given a moment’s thought to the fact that banging your brother’s chest into a rock, repeatedly, would result in massive bruising. But, although Dean might have grimaced a few times and did swallow down some pain pills every couple hours, he maintained the pace and the trash talk at a consistent and admirable level. No one ever accused Dean Winchester of wussing out.

When they were finished, after the second rappelling contest (also won by Dana), Sam, Dean, Dana and Travis stood at the bottom organizing the gear for packing away.

Dean turned to Travis. “Well, I never wanted to do this but it was terrific. Climbing up rock, who knew?” Dean shook his head, clearly amazed that something that didn’t involve classic rock or car parts or didn’t result in a dead, evil thing would be worth his time. “Join us for dinner?”

Travis pulled the leather cord out of his hair letting his curls cascade to his shoulders. “Thank ya Dean but I gotta scoutin troop that I’m talkin’ to tonight about climbin’.”

In turn, Dean and Sam shook Travis’ hand and turned toward the Lodge to head back. Dana hung behind. Sam stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Dana, joining us for dinner in an hour?”

“Yeah Sam. I’ll be there,” she replied with the mental equivalent of pushing him away.

Once they were gone, Dana and Travis stood looking at each other. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the trees, sitting on a rock and pulling her down into his lap, nuzzling her neck. “Ya could be a supah climber sugah. Stay, climb with us. Ya’ll be headin’ up El Cap for August is up.”

Dana smiled, ran her fingers across his forehead and through his curls. It was a tempting offer, a summer as a free spirit with Travis, living in a tent, cooking over a camp fire, ascending El Cap. But, she shook her head ‘No’. “Can’t.” And, before she could elaborate, Dana felt a buzz in her head and that same wrongness crept overhead again. She froze, tried to hide her signature and tossed out a mental net, quietly. Dana felt it more clearly then. A dirty, wretched sensation slithered up her spine. She shook it off, fought down the instinctive panic reaction.

She altered her thoughts again, mixing them up to make it seem like multiple different people, and reached out to probe, silky smoothly. Dana felt the edges of it, then carefully applied a brush of pressure. It (she thought ‘it’ because she had no actual sense of what it was) was searching, tracking something. Dana transformed her pattern again attempting to deduce what it was looking for.

She felt it in a burst, like too much sunlight after a darkened room. Sam. It was looking for Sam. The shock and horror of that caused her to lose grip on her multi-layered cover. The murk noticed, clearly read her infiltration into its space, and dissipated, although this time she was able to keep hold of a small trace. She clung to that, set an anchor of sorts to track it.

“Travis, I’ve got to go. Uh, thanks for the offer to stay. Maybe some summer but, uh, not now.” She kissed him, hard and fast, and stood.

“Sugah, ya ok?” Travis reached for her but she was quick. She grabbed her pack and was three steps down the path by the time he reached out for her hand.

 

 

The door flew open and Dana burst into Sam and Dean’s room. They were propped up on the bed, hair still damp from the shower, Dean leaning on Sam’s chest, both drinking beer and watching baseball on television.

“Sam, can you feel that?” she was panting, out of breath, red-faced, air standing on end. She threw her pack to the ground, bent over, hands on knees to suck in air after her mad run.

Sam jumped up and went to her. “Feel what sweetie?” Dana gasped for air. She tried to show him the small trace of the murk but, as she did, she lost it.

“Goddamn it!” she shouted and sank to her knees on the ground.

Dean brought her a bottle of water, sat down next to her, held it up to her lips. She drank it half down, wiped her mouth.

“What’s going on Dana?” Sam asked, now sitting down and completing the circle of three.

“Felt it last night,” Dana sputtered between breaths, “A murky thing, wrong, evaporated when I tried to get a read on it,” more gasps, “then forgot all about it.” She paused, drank some more, steadied her breathing. “Just now, felt it, got a hold, caught a small trace but lost it trying to pass it to Sam. Shit.”

Dean reached for his pack, pulled out his Glock. Sam and Dana stared. “You climbed with a loaded weapon on your back?” Sam asked.

Dean looked at him with an ‘of course’ look on his face, as if climbing sheer granite with a loaded weapon was the only way to do it.

“No, Dad. We have to go, leave, now.” She was adamant.

Sam and Dean stared at her. Dana never ran away from trouble, she only ever ran toward trouble.

“Why sweetie?” Sam asked gently.

“Can’t fight this now, here. Need to get home, now, need to go, now.”

“But, you forgot it after last night so why the freak out? Dana, this isn’t like you.”

She didn’t know what to say. She just knew instinctually they had to leave. And she couldn’t think of a suitable lie. So, the truth, “It’s after Sam.”

Dean stood and started packing, methodically putting items into duffels. Sam hadn’t moved. “You heard her Sam. We go NOW.”


	2. Arc Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters have come home from Yosemite after Dana sensed something very wrong. The only question is, what exactly followed them home?

You keep running for another place  
To find that saving grace  
Don’t you baby?  
~Tom Petty~

 

**Two weeks after the Climbing Trip**

Sex hadn’t been lovemaking in so long that Dean felt a bit off kilter.

For the past several months, ever since Sam’s new-found power began curing his bodily injuries, all of their sex had been forceful, rough. It was a stroke of luck that any of their furniture had survived in one piece. Sam had a definite theme of complete dominance in the bedroom (or wherever) going on. Dean hadn’t minded.

Sam in the driver’s seat when fucking was a really good experience. Everyone needed someone that damn good at fucking to take control. Sadly for everyone else, Dean wasn’t sharing.

As Dean emerged to wakefulness, he slowly became aware of Sam spooned around his back, slowly and lovingly stroking his chest and abs while kissing and licking his neck.

Dean was about to mumble, “Not a girl”, when Sam ran a finger expertly down his cock, eliciting an, “ah” of pleasure instead. Sam pushed Dean’s left leg forward and propped him up a bit higher on his side. Sam’s lubed fingers ran over his hole, still quite sticky from last evening when Sam had tied him to the headboard, face down, and fucked him royally.

“Let me love you Dean,” Sam mumbled, lips behind Dean’s left ear. Dean felt Sam’s dick breach him, gently, no hard thrusts, no hurry, just a long, slow entry paired with the continued caress of his chest. Despite himself, Dean felt goose bumps and emitted a loud sigh of pleasure.

Sam turned Dean’s head slightly and claimed Dean’s lips, inserting his tongue and licking into Dean’s mouth. It wasn’t a dominant, owning kiss; it was an intense, romantic, claiming of a kiss.

Sam altered the angle of his hips to hit Dean’s prostate. Dean emitted a very girly moan. Sam smiled, peppered Dean’s cheeks with kisses, nibbled at his chin, kept up his steady, leisurely strokes.

Dean tried to roll onto his belly to speed things up, force it get rougher. Sam used his arm to still Dean and mumbled “No,” against his neck, languidly working his hips.

“Need to come Sammy.”

“Need you in me baby,” Sam replied, as he pulled all the way out and pushed the lube into Dean’s hand.

“Huh?” Dean managed. Dean hadn’t topped in at least two, no - make that three, months.

“How do you want me?” Sam asked, hand reaching down and squeezing the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm.

“Your side, like you had me,” Dean whispered as he lubed up his swollen cock. Dean positioned himself, imitating Sam’s position from only moments before, and stroked two fingers over Sam’s hole. Dean’s bone-deep want made him ache, but if Sam wanted slow and easy, slow and easy he would get. He inserted one finger, gently, while scooting close in order to kiss Sam’s neck.

Sam moaned at the intrusion, shifted his hips slightly to improve the angle. Dean quickly followed with two fingers, moving them bit by bit, scissoring tenderly.

Dean aligned his hips and breached Sam. He froze then, waited for Sam’s body to adjust, casually fondled Sam’s balls and the base of his cock. After he felt Sam relax, he eased into working his hips, imitating Sam’s prior pace.

“Amazing,” Dean uttered, describing both the sex and his lover, as he licked and bit at Sam’s back, pulled Sam closer into him, reaching for Sam’s cock.

Matching rhythms, Dean worked his hips and hand. Sam rolled his head and said what sounded vaguely like, “saving grace”, followed emphatically by, “Oh god, yeah.”

Sam adjusted his position, moving his hips completely in sync with Dean’s.

They undulated together for several minutes, one fluid motion, bodies crushed together, similar sounds of pleasure filling the air. Sam opened his mind and flooded their link with the vista from the top of After Six, the wide open space, the dense green of the trees, the blue, cloudless sky, the slight smell of wildflowers on the air. Dean groaned, tightened his grip and started to come. Sam followed, coating Dean’s hand as he came in huge, messy spurts.

Dean pulled Sam slightly in order to capture his lips. Sam pushed back a second to look into Dean’s eyes. Annunciating each word carefully, he said, “I love you so much”.

 

 

The beat of your heart, the beat of your heart  
The beat of your heart, the beat of your heart  
The beat of your heart, the beat of her heart  
The beat of your heart, the slow burning away  
Of the bitter fires of the devil's arcade  
~Bruce Springsteen~

 

Dean looked down at Aristotle’s bloody paws and bent to pick her up. A buzzing sound filled his ears and Aristotle’s form started to blur in front of him. He fell to one knee, bracing himself from toppling over with a shaky left hand.

His father’s arms encircled his shoulders. John barked an order, “Breathe, son.”

Dean’s vision cleared as he pulled in a lungful of air and he reached out for Ari, scooping her up. _Sam?_ Even his internal voice was shaking. Something was very wrong. Very wrong.

John helped Dean up, moved to the Impala, jumped into the driver’s seat and turned over the engine. Dean, a few steps behind, threw himself, with Aristotle in his arms, into the passenger side. It was awkward with the size of her, but Dean wasn't letting go.

The car flew backwards into the street, spinning 180 to head in the right direction, a move worthy of a fine stunt driver. John straightened her out fully and floored it.

Dean released his death grip on Aristotle and settled her onto his lap. Her paws were bright red, so covered that it was unclear how badly her pads were torn up. Dean pulled her in close and reached down to the floor for the water bottle, pouring some into her mouth. She gulped at it greedily then rested her head in his lap, body quivering, but managed to twist her body to look up at Dean. Dean was unsure if a dog was able to look terrified but that pretty much summed up the expression emanating from her big brown eyes.

John flipped open his cell phone, punched a number and after two beats, levelly ordered into the handset, “Home. Now. Fast.” and hung up.

Dean tried to stay focused on the passing of the streets, the good progress they were achieving in crossing through Lawrence in record time. He pushed away thoughts of what this meant or how bad it would be when they arrived home. Unbidden, the memory of that morning’s sex crept into his mind, the idea that Sam had insisted on lovemaking instead of the usual joyful abandon of fucking. Dean shook it off, did not allow himself to dwell. Instead, he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a gun and two spare clips, asked his father, “You armed?”

“Yep.”

It was about two miles to their house from the garage. Typically, it was a five to ten minute drive. John ran every light and skidded around every corner at full speed, making it in under three minutes.

Tires squealing, the Impala tore into the driveway. Dean was out the door, putting Aristotle down and running into the house, gun drawn, before John applied any pressure to the brakes.

“SAMMY!” _Sam, please man...answer me._

He ran into the living room, which was perfect, tidy, everything in its usual place.

Aristotle barked weakly and Dean looked back out the front door, following the sound. Ari was limping her way around the side of the house, to the backyard. John obviously understood the dog’s message and already was racing that way, gun at the ready.

Dean went flying back out the door, following his father’s path.

The horrid smell of burnt vegetation and rotten eggs greeted them. The stench deepened as they neared the back of the house.

As Dean rounded the last corner to the garden, he gasped. Every bush and tree was torn up by the roots and shredded, as if the whole yard had been processed through a mulcher, with the detritus spread out afterward. There were huge holes in the ground, still smoking, giant piles of ash and sulfur all that remained in the pits.

His father was huddled over something and Dean threw himself into a slide in order to cover the last few steps.

John reached down cautiously, tenderly, to lift Sam’s head into his lap.

Sam was naked, covered in blood and dirt, unconscious.

His short inhalations of air were strained, wheezy.

Sam’s head lolled in John’s arms.

Dean reached for Sam’s throat, counted out the beats of his faint pulse. Reached out to transfer Sam’s head from John to himself, pulled Sam’s body in close to his own. It had to be over 90 degrees outside; Sam’s body felt like a chilled drink.

Dean opened his mind to connect to Sam’s. But, he heard Dana shout, “Stop Dad!” and he looked up. Dana rounded the corner two beats later, racing across the yard, sliding across the space to get to them, just as her Dad had done moments before.

Dana panted out, “Don’t reach out for him – could be a trap.”

Dean vaguely recognized that Scott had arrived in the garden a few moments after Dana. He stopped a few feet away from them, eyes alternately moving from the devastation of yard to the Winchesters huddled around Sam's beaten and bloody body.

Dana relaxed her body and put a hand on Sam’s forehead. Whatever she touched physically jolted her backwards onto her butt. Her eyes opened wide in shock and fear.

“Call Missouri,” she said to John, voice wavering. “Let’s get him inside. Safer there.”

 

 

It’s too late  
It’s too soon  
It’s too late  
It’s too soon  
It’s too late  
It’s too soon

Or is it …  
~The Hives~

 

They got Sam into the house, onto a hurriedly constructed, on a bed of blankets on the living room floor, his head propped on her father's lap. Dean stroked his hair, a calm motion starting at the top of his head, down the side to his neck, then repeated carefully, tenderly.

Scott brought a large wash basin full of warm water in from the kitchen, and set it on the floor by Sam, along with a stack of towels. He started with a wash cloth, wet it and rung it out, and gently began to clean the blood and dirt off Sam’s face.

Dana was only seconds behind him, dropping the box of first aid supplies at Sam’s feet. She propped open the top, pulled out and put on latex gloves and dug out the IV supplies. Dave had taught her the basics well. She pointed to Scott to cleanse Sam’s left arm then she followed with a healthy dose of disinfectant. She expertly set up the line for a saline drip.

John waited at the open front door, scanning the street for Missouri’s arrival.

Dana rocked back and forth, watching Sam's chest. “His breathing’s a mess. Wanna call Dave so bad but really need to wait until Missouri’s here.” She closed her eyes, whispering, mantra-like, “Damn Damn DAMN!” She needed to focus. Sam needed her.

Scott moved the blanket covering Sam in order to wipe down his chest. One swipe of the cloth revealed the source of the blood. Sam’s chest was a crisscross pattern of one inch gouges running horizontally and vertically. The gashes may have formed some pattern but, with all the blood, it was difficult to be certain.

“Are those knife wounds?” Scott whispered. Dana put her hand on Scott’s to comfort him. “No,” she replied.

Dana lifted her head to look at her father. Her stomach lurched as she sensed that somehow Sam and Dean were communicating...yet Dana knew there was not even a slight buzz of mental activity coming off Sam. The only message between them was whatever message was carried through Dean’s caress.

Dana was lifted out of her thoughts as she felt Missouri’s energy approaching. She and Missouri never intruded into one another’s head space. Yet the recognition of each other’s pattern was well-developed after all their years spent together. Dana reached out and sent _Be prepared Missouri. It’s bad._

Missouri walked into the house a minute later and hurried over to them, John on her heels.

John helped Missouri lower herself to the floor before slumping down next to her. Five people sat, circling Sam’s broken body.

“Found him in the backyard, covered in blood, about fifteen minutes ago,” John stated.

Dana spoke up, “I touched his mind in the yard and hit a block that I’ve never felt. Sat me down on my ass. Backed off and had Papa call you.”

Missouri nodded, reached for Sam’s right hand. “Did the right thing.” Missouri’s eyes fluttered closed, her head dropped, she muttered some sing-song verse, possibly in meditation.

Dana touched Sam’s leg and Scott reached over to cover her hand with his. Out of the corner of her eye, Dana saw John place a hand on Sam’s shoulder. All of them were connected now, all touching Sam, creating a closed loop around him.

After two minutes, Missouri opened her eyes without releasing Sam’s hand. “Never felt one before, only read about them.” She paused, steadied herself.

“Some kind of demon attack. Dunno who or what or why. Fought him physically to weaken him, I could sense the remnants of the struggle clinging to Sam. But it really went after his mind. Left nuthin’, tore him up in shreds. Sam fought like a son of a bitch.” She stopped then, turned to Dana before finishing. “And the fucker left behind a fail safe.”

“A fail safe?” Dana asked, trying to stay calm. “You mean a booby trap so that when I go in to fix him, it’ll try to blow me up too?”

“Yes, dahlin’. That’s what I mean.”

Mental booby traps, she had read about them. Designed to capture a psychic and destroy or subjugate her when she least expected. Only a very accomplished being could manage implanting such a tricky, tainted thing.

Clearly, whatever had attacked Sam did not want anyone or anything to be able to fix him.

Dana put a hand on Missouri’s arm. She demanded, “Ok, how do I get around it?”

Missouri didn’t answer. Dana poked her in the arm. Sam needed her; she needed to get on with this. “How?”

“Oh baby, you can’t.” Missouri shook her head as tears ran down her cheeks, the first one of them to succumb to tears. “Thing’s in there solid. You nudge it loose, it’ll catch ya. That thing tore up his mind, everything is shutting down. Oh lord, he’s dying, Dana...won't be long.”

Dana felt the blood in her heart stop pumping. No, it wasn’t true. Nothing was insurmountable. Missouri was wrong.

Wrong, goddamnit.

Dana felt the blood surge back through her veins as she replied, in a voice much louder than her intent, “No fuckin’ way. NO!”

 

 

Wind Cries Mary

 

Will the wind ever remember the names it has blown in the past  
And with this crutch its old age and its wisdom  
It whispers no this will be the last  
And the wind cries mary  
~Jimi Hendrix~

 

Dana ran out of the room and up the stairs with Scott right on her heels.

Missouri pulled Sam’s hand up to her lips and kissed it, held it to her cheek. Some of her tears dripped onto his hand, mixing with the blood. She placed his hand down, stroked it once more soothingly, before pushing herself up to standing and exiting the room without another word.

John turned to Dean, who continued to stroke Sam’s head. Dean’s head was down, John unable to see his eyes. His son lapsed into silence when things were truly awful and always after a death had occurred. With Sam’s passing imminent, Dean seemed to have assumed his silence in preparation.

“Say something son.”

“Knew as soon as I saw Ari. Just knew,” Dean replied, voice devoid of affect. It didn’t sound a thing like him. As if he was channeling some news reporter to inform John of his state of being.

There were no words of comfort, even if John was a man for whom providing comfort came naturally. Since the event in Yosemite that scared Dana so thoroughly, they’d been cautious. They’d executed a whole litany of rituals, protections and cleansings to try to determine what the hell piece of shit evil was after Sam. John never doubted the veracity or accuracy of what Dana had reported. But, none of their efforts had netted even a glimmer of information.

It seemed that whatever it was had crawled back into its hole, threw up a shield and hid or existed on a completely impenetrable plane.

In response to possessing no solid information on which to proceed, they purified Sam in an ancient Japanese bathing ceremony intended to ward off evil and make it impossible for anything malevolent to latch on to him. That worthless tome was going to be torched at the first opportunity.

“Do you have any sense of him?” John inquired, asking as gently as was possible for him.

Dean shrugged. “Dad, need a few minutes alone with him.”

John stroked Dean’s head before pushing himself up and off the floor and exiting the room. He turned the corner into the hallway, out of visual range, and sank down to the floor, leaning his head against the wall. He doubted Dean would do anything rash but he didn’t _feel_ like Dean right now and John wasn’t risking a goddamn thing. He was staying close. If anything was said that perhaps he shouldn’t hear, he’d live with it.

Silence, an eerie emptiness, for a minute, then two before John heard Dean’s voice, muffled. John scooted closer so he could make out the words.

“Baby, I hope you hear me. I’m pretty sure you can, not sure why, but really pretty sure.”

A pause. Then a bit louder, more definite, “Never wanted to have to say good-bye to you. Ever.” Dean's voice cracked. "You’re my whole world, have been since that crazy day at the bar. Not going to ask you to fight Sam. Know that you can’t. You've fought so much...so damn much. Gonna ask something of you though. It’s time you go over Sam. Go to Mom. I know she’ll be so…”

A huge wracking cry of misery erupted. John’s body instinctually twitched to go to Dean but consciously he fought the motion. Sometimes allowing a son to be alone was the hardest, even when it was the right thing to do.

John’s gut felt Dean struggle for control, suppress his agony. “Mom, she deserves to have you after all this time. She’ll be happy. Most important, you get to be with Michael.” Another grief-filled sound, quickly subdued. “I always hated that we weren’t able to save Michael. Now, you go and father him. Make sure you tell him how much we all love him.”

Silence. John moved to go back into the room but Dean wasn’t done.

“We all love you Sam. And you’ve paid your debts, all of them. Don’t cling to…us, to this world babe. Don’t want that for you. Go over and be with Mom and Michael. They love you and need you. I promise that we'll be fine. It's okay, baby. It's okay.”

The silence settled slowly. Dean's voice fading.

John was certain he was done this time but waited a few more beats before re-entering the room. Dean had switched positions. He was laying next to Sam, with Sam in his arms, Sam’s head tucked into Dean’s chest. Dean’s arms encircled Sam’s body and Dean’s clothes where soaked in his blood. Dean held the motionless Sam whispering comfort into his ear.

 

Breathe No More

 

So I bleed,  
I bleed,  
And I breathe,  
I breathe now...  
Bleed,  
I bleed,  
And I breathe,  
I breathe,  
I breathe-  
I breathe no more  
~Evanescence~

 

Digging further down into the trunk, Dana shoved books around but there wasn’t enough light in the closet to distinguish them clearly. So, she just lifted them up, armful after armful, and threw them into the space behind her. When the trunk was empty she spun around and threw herself at the pile. Scott was standing there, hands at his side, looking immeasurably sorrow-filled.

“Look for a slim green book with an etched leopard on the cover,” she ordered breathlessly.

Dana started flinging books around. Scott bent down next to her, shuffling books as ordered.

“Goddamn it, where the fuck is it?”

“Dana, honey, the room is starting to vibrate, you gotta calm down,” Scott attempted.

“Don’t try to tell me…gotcha,” Dana scooped up the book as she charged for the door.

 

“See, right there - that’s the solution.”

Dana stabbed at a page in the green covered book for emphasis.

Missouri looked at Dana and stated as delicately as possible, “Dahlin’, I know what a switchback is. I don’t need no book to explain it to me. And it ain’t no solution.”

John walked into the kitchen then, obviously coming to check out the loud, emphatic voices. Dana looked up and immediately launched a barrage his way.

“Papa. You’ve gotta trust me. You gotta believe me. I can do this. Switchback.” Stab, stab, stab at the picture in the book. “It will work. No time Papa, just trust me. Please Papa.” She was begging and didn’t care in the least. There was only person she had to convince and that was John Winchester.

“Dana. The room is vibrating. You have to calm down.”

Dana pulled herself up to her full height. “Don’t tell me to calm down Papa. Sam has minutes left. This will work.”

John walked over to stand directly in front of her and put his hands on her biceps. “Take a breath and explain what you want to do.”

Dana forced down her anxiety. Scott was standing next to her. She reached for his hand and breathed. The tingling in the room lessened.

“Switchback. I prod the booby trap loose and it will come after me. I head to a psychic wall that Missouri will erect. At the last moment, I perform the switchback,” Dana stabbed at the open page again, “and the damn thing runs into the wall. It can’t follow me when I switch. Then I zap it back to hell where it fucking belongs. I CAN DO THIS.” Dana yelled the last part and the vibration resumed. Scott squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, inhaled deeply and it subsided once again.

John turned to Missouri and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry but you can’t do a switchback without lots of practice,“ she responded then added, “and it ain’t exactly pure.”

Dana huffed. “Been doing the switchback for months and it ain’t exactly evil either.”

Missouri stared at her, voice tinged with fury, “Where the hell you learn a switchback, young lady?”

Dana flailed in returned fury, “Sam, who do you think?” With that said, Dana turned to John to once again plead her case. “Sam was able to watch me at track practice and I didn’t sense him. I pestered the shit out of him until he told me how and then threatened to learn how to do it by myself if he didn’t show me. And, yes, it is a bit tainted in the big scope of things but it will the fuck work to destroy that damn booby trap in his head.”

Missouri conceded, “Girl, I am sure you execute the most beautiful, devious switchback known to psychic-kind but my skills aren’t up to holding a wall for that thing to slam into. It will go loose and kill us all.”

Dana actually stomped her feet. Scott rubbed her shoulders. “You put up the structure and use Papa and Dad as the force to make it strong.” In anticipation, Dana put up her hands to stop Missouri’s next objection. “Yeah, I know they’re non-adepts but Papa’s mind is Fort Knox and Dad is pretty damn good after all these years with Sam. They are strong, you just anchor them and hold steady. Trust me, you won’t have to hold it long. I’m going to blow the fuck out of it.”

Dana grabbed John’s hand. “Papa please, no time. I can do this. Please Please Please. Go in there and order Dad to let me do this. Please Papa.”

John nodded his head in assent, kissed Dana’s forehead and left the kitchen.

 

Livin' on a Prayer

 

Whooah, were half way there  
Livin on a prayer  
Take my hand and well make it - I swear  
Livin on a prayer  
~Bon Jovi~

 

“No Dad, Sam wouldn’t want Dana to take any risk at all. Just. No.” Dean said, in a slow monotone, once his father had explained Dana’s plan of action.

Dean propped himself up to sitting as Dana, Missouri and Scott re-entered the living room.

Dana didn’t attempt to argue. She looked at her Dad and replied, “No is not an acceptable answer Dad. No one is dying today and that’s that. I can do this Dad. Trust me. You and Sam are going to die of old age when you’re both ancient, surrounded by great-grandchildren and a pack of dogs.”

Dana felt Dean reach out mentally as if trying to obtain Sam’s reaction. In response, Dana touched his mind gently. The connection had an unfamiliar, watery texture since they never used this mode to communicate with each other. _Love you Dad. Can do this. He taught me well. Have faith._

She studied her Dad who, in turn, was staring at Sam. As she was about to prod him once more, Dean conceded, “Ok honey. What do I do?”

The relief, cool and most welcome, felt like a waterfall cascading over her on a sticky hot day.

Dana went over to Scott and covered his hands with hers. “I need you to go back to the kitchen. Without any psychic experience, you’re too vulnerable to be in this room. I know you only knew about my telekinetic powers and I’ve got lots of explaining to do. But, please just do this for me now.”

Scott’s brown eyes held hers. He nodded and kissed her forehead. “Love you baby. Be strong.”

As Scott walked out, Dana called after him, “Will you tend to Ari’s injuries and make sure she stays in the kitchen too?”

Scott turned back and smiled and mouthed a, “Yes.”

Dana studied Sam, now a dreadful shade of gray. His breathing had devolved into small, pained gasps. Dana positioned herself above Sam’s head, touched her hand to his forehead and muttered, “Hold on SamSam. I’m coming for you.”

“Ok, Missouri you sit at Sam’s feet with Papa and Dad slightly behind you. Do you need a physical connection?”

Missouri sat where she was told, John and Dean following as well. Missouri replied, “Yes, I think a connection of us three would be for the best.”

Missouri grabbed John’s hand with her left and Dean’s with her right. “I think you two should join your other two hands, can you reach?” They nodded and Dana immediately felt Missouri erecting the wall, block by block.

“John, think of me and open your mind.” Missouri waited a beat then instructed Dean to do the same.

Dana tossed an energy bolt with a blood red trail their way. It slammed into their joint wall and disappeared into a curl of smoke. Dana half-smiled. “Very nice. That wall evaporated that senswelt without a flinch. It’ll do just fine.”

Dana started into the traditional ritual of mind clearing. She couldn’t afford any errant energy or disruptive thoughts left behind when she dislodged the trap in Sam’s head. Her need for a pure healing energy outweighed her desperate need to hurry, so she repeated the ritual twice and then a third time, slowing down on each pass. On the fourth time through, she entered Sam’s mind and performed another sequence of cleansing from there.

Then, in the middle of the fifth pass, she performed a colossal psychic roundhouse, flying around and clobbering the booby trap accompanied by an almighty howl. And she raced up and out. She felt its filth right on her heels as she headed straight into the wall, needing to get within millimeters of it in order to leave no room for the trap to reverse course.

Every instinct was screaming out to switch now, switch, switch, switch. But she waited another millisecond and then another and then another. She was going to slam into the wall and then she flooded her mind with the intricate pattern of the switch, the green energy of it, slightly flecked with the gray triangular pattern of its darker side, flooding over her.

Dana veered up, up, up and then flipped over and away, not unlike a pole vaulter clearing a record-setting height. Beneath her she felt the impact as the trap slammed into the Missouri~John~Dean wall.

Stopping dead in her tracks, she shook off the after-effects of the switch like a dog shaking water off its coat. Turned and stared for the tiniest fraction of a second before unleashing, full bore, the nastiest, dark side psychic energy bomb in her book of tricks.

She nailed it dead center.

It exploded, sounding like a sonic boom had erupted in the Winchester living room. The windows shook, the glass mirror shattered into thousands of pieces followed by the light fixtures, wood was groaning under the strain. Then it stopped. Blessed silence.

She looked at Sam, wheezing for air. She performed a quick cleansing ritual for herself and dove into his head, searching desperately for every autonomic function she could find. She couldn’t find any trace of Sam’s unique psychic signature. The attack was a psychic rape of the first order; it was chaos in there.

She had to deal with that later. Right now, she needed to focus on performing surgery on all his basic functions. She found the failing connections for heart and lung and threw them together. She searched desperately for digestion, blood flow, lymphatic systems and fixed them all. She worked furiously, felt her own energy fading.

She stepped back and assessed. She had done what was necessary to keep him alive. He was in dreadful shape, but he wasn’t going to die today.

She stepped up and out of Sam’s mind and swayed. She reached for her head and hazily recognized that someone was holding her tight. She groaned and tried to open her eyes. The small amount of light that leaked through made her scream in agony and fade into unconsciousness.

 

Look What You’ve Done 

 

Oh well, it seems likes such fun  
Until you lose what you had won

Oh, look what you've done  
~JET~

 

Heat. Dana numbly registered that she was laying in the middle of a pit of hellfire.

Crap. Had she done something wrong? Why was she burning up?

She forced her left eye open and felt a tremor shake through her body. Hands touched her but that burned worse. She flinched and gasped.

“Dana, you awake?” Scott’s voice. So loud, it echoed in her ears. Scott was so soft-spoken. Why in the world was he yelling?

“Hurts,” she whispered. Her own voice sounded so loud to her, reverberating in her ears. She forced her eyes open and earned herself an explosion of light. She slammed her eyelids shut. Someone tromped into the room, sounded like a herd of elephants shaking the floor.

“Is she up?” Missouri’s voice, so unbearably loud.

Scott replied, “Barely. Can we give her anything?”

“Going to give her a righteous whupping. What she deserves.”

Dana couldn't stand the pain of the voices any longer. “Please,” she gasped, “please, quiet, please.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to be quiet young lady.” Dana thought her body was going to shatter. The sound of Missouri’s raised voice reverberated from the tip of her hair, down the back of her head, coursed through her torso before causing a knot of pain in her thighs.

“Hurt a little? Let me guess, you’re burning up, my voice sounds like rockets exploding inside your body and you can’t open your eyes without thinking you’re staring into the sun.” When Missouri was right, she was dead on right. “Answer me!”

Scott interjected, begging, “Missouri. She’s in agony. Please stop.”

“I will not stop young man. Do you have any idea what she did? Any idea?”

Of course, Scott had no idea. But, he gamely attempted a reply. “She saved Sam’s life.”

“That, young man, remains to be seen. Sam’s in a bad way.”

That got through the pain to bring Dana out of her own misery. She forced her eyes open, absorbed the fire of the white, blazing light. “Sam, oh god, Sam.” Dana struggled to sit up, pulled at the couch to help prop her weight up.

In a calmer voice, Missouri filled in the gaps. “That doctor friend of John’s is upstairs with him. Sewing him up, getting some blood into him. John and Dean got him into bed. Can’t do nothing for Sam right now girl, , lay down.”

Missouri’s hand came to rest on her shoulder and Dana recoiled from the searing pain of it. Missouri kept it in place.

“Dana Elizabeth, where did you learn that filthy thing you threw to destroy the fail safe? Tell me right now.” Missouri’s voice made it clear that bullshit was not going to be tolerated.

Oh. It all clicked into place like tumblers in a safe. This was a blowback in response to that little move. Well, it worked so she felt rather happy, sort of, to suffer the consequences.

Dana managed the smallest of explanations. “Read about it. Then the internet, connected with a dark practitioner. Asked for the details of how. Been practicing.” She added, “Not from Sam.”

Missouri sighed. “Listen to me. I do not tolerate any connection to the true dark. None. Not even when used as you did today. Your uncle has touched too much, most not his fault, you will not follow that model. You will stop this.”

Dana nodded. She knew Missouri was right but frankly, she’d agree to anything to get her to be quiet.

“Good. Glad we agree. I’ll go get Dave to give you something for the pain.”

Dana spoke up, remembered how Sam felt on this issue, “No, deserve to suffer through it.”

Missouri laughed. “Yes, you do. But Sam needs you. I ain’t got the skills he needs right now and you do. So we got to get you on your feet.”

Dana flinched as Missouri headed out of the room, each footstep echoing inside her body. Missouri was right but Sam was alive.

And Dana knew she’d do it again, screw the consequences

 

O Mary Don’t You Weep 

 

Brothers and sisters don't you cry  
There'll be good times by and by  
Pharaoh's army got drownded  
O Mary don't you weep

Well O Mary don't you weep, don't you mourn  
O Mary don't you weep, don't you mourn  
Pharaoh's army got drownded  
O Mary don't you weep

 

She woke with a groggy, leaden head, the remnant of some stellar pain killer.

It was pitch black in the room. From the stillness of the night air and the soft chirp of the crickets, Dana figured it was somewhere in the early morning hours.

“Hi sweetheart.” A cold cloth smelling like lemons touched her face. Dana sighed into its welcome relief.

“Daddy,” she murmured, reaching a hand out to touch him.

Dean pulled her head up off the pillow and cradled it in his arms. She felt his lips on the top of her head, dropping feather light kisses into her hair with his warm hands firm on her back. She inhaled, drawing his scent into her, and inadvertently caught a sensation of his bone-deep anguish.

Suddenly terrified that something had transpired while she was out, she breathed out, “Sammy?” in wide-eyed alarm.

“Your Papa’s with him. He’s in a coma. Blood pressure’s better and his heart rate is good. Missouri said we have you to thank for that,” Dean whispered into her hair.

Missouri. Furious. Dana’s grogginess started to fade at the memory of Missouri’s rage colliding with her dark side-inspired sense overload.

“Don’t be mad Dad, please.”

Dean continued to rock her, as if she was three again. “Not mad. Will deal with that later. How are you?”

“Okay now.” She sensed his disbelief. “Not just saying that Dad. Really okay. Wanna see Uncle Sammy.”

Dean moved to help her stand up. She remembered then, “Where’s Scott?”

Dana swayed a bit, not quite maintaining her balance, no feeling in her extremities, unsure if it was the drugs or the blowback effect.

“Sent Scott home. Four or five hours ago.” Thankfully, Dean kept his arms around her waist or Dana would have been a heap on the floor.

“He’s a smart kid Dana. Looked at me and told me that you had only ever asked one thing of him, to never ask about Sam. And he headed out without one question.”

Dana took a tentative step, happy she didn’t collapse. “I don’t blame him if I never see him again, now that he knows how much I’ve kept from him, lied about.”

Dean actually huffed at that, a small, emotionless sound. “Sam kept quite a bit from me sweetie and you know how that worked itself out.”

Dana desperately wished that Scott had not accompanied her into the backyard. Fuck, should have insisted. Scott didn’t deserve knowing this, witnessing the result of unfettered malevolence, exposed to its filth. And, he most certainly didn’t deserve a psychic freak of a girlfriend.

They had navigated to the foot of the stairs. She looked up, wished they had a ranch-style house.

“Can you make it?” Dean asked.

“Sure, no problem,” Dana replied and lifted her right foot, willed it to move and climb the goddamn stairs.

 

Dana gasped as they entered the bedroom. Sam was cleaned up, the blood and dirt gone, wrapped in white blankets with IV lines in both arms and a breathing cannula in his nose, propped up in the bed, hair hanging limply to his shoulders. With the blood and dirt gone, she clearly saw his skin color, the filthy yellow-gray that snow turns in late winter. “Oh god” unwittingly escaped her lips. Dean tightened his grip, pulled her a bit closer to him.

Dean lowered her into the rocking chair pulled up to the side of the bed. She slumped into it gratefully.

Dana looked across at John in the recliner on the other side of the bed. It shocked her how aged he looked, how beaten down, how defenseless. Papa was never anything but Mt. Everest in her mind.

Without preamble, John sat forward an inch and spoke to her, in a low voice, stern as a schoolmaster. “Don’t think I don’t know what you did, young lady. I don’t care that you used such a nasty thing Dana Elizabeth. I care that you learned it in the first place. We will revisit this topic.”

And with that, he sat back, tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

“I can’t feel him,” Dana said as she reached for Sam’s hand. He was cold to the touch. “What’s his body temperature?”

“A little below normal. We’re using hot water bottles to warm him up.”

“Oh.” Dana stared at Sam’s face. No trace of pain in his expression. Perhaps a sadness or a loneliness though.

“I need to go in and find his healing power. Get it activated. Then things will start to fit back together. The brain damage is severe but that will work.”

It was easy. It had to be. The alternative, saving him only to subject him to life as a vegetable, was unthinkable, unacceptable, not going to fucking happen on her watch.

Dean grabbed her hand. “Dana, not now. You need a good night’s rest and let the effects wear off.”

She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed it. “I don’t want to wait another minute. He needs us. This isn’t difficult.”

Dana moved Dean’s hand to cover hers covering Sam’s. Physically connected to both her guys, she touched Sam’s mind lightly, her first non-emergency entry. Her heart constricted. Tattered memories free-floating, muddled together. The massive physical battle had left a signature, kind of like the sound of nails on a blackboard. That, in and of itself, upset her and, on an ordinary day, was hugely concerning.

But, the physical battle, with its jarring, tremor-y remains, was insignificant compared to the mental attack that Sam had undergone.

When she went flying in after the switchback, she saw what she thought was a rape of the mind. That impression summed it up well. Sam had been mentally penetrated against his will, held down and forced to submit. During the act, all his memories had been ripped apart with psychic metal claws. Everything had been shredded. The being, whoever or whatever it was, was formidable, cruel and masterful in its destruction.

She felt the lingering trail of the murk and its fail safe. She cleared that away with a tender sweep of pink dust. The rosy haze surrounded it and floated it up and out. At least Sam’s mind would be filth-free.

As she traveled through the sections of his mind, she sensed differently toned remains from the assault. There was devastation more Sam in nature. She stopped, pondered and jerked, realized that some of the damage occurred from Sam’s vicious struggle to survive. She stepped lightly so as not to make a sound or leave any of her trace or cause any further damage. She was intent on not causing him any more hurt.

She shuffled through each piece, identifying from memory what had been where. Searched everywhere for the silvery white, blob-like formed mental shape, that was his unique, powerful healing power. Its shape was so different from all else. Should be a piece of cake to locate and then she just had to poke it, tell it to get to work, do its thing, and bring Sam around.

She moved up and down the corridors, psychically peeking in doors. She made two passes before the unthinkable started to float through her own mind.

After four complete passes, she pulled out and put her forehead down on the bed, struggling to maintain control. She lost that battle quickly. Her body convulsed and a terrible shriek of grief surged out of her.

Dana Winchester was rarely wrong. This was an easy task. Just go in and activate his power and let it work. Straightforward, except for one thing. Sam Winchester’s healing power was nowhere to be found anywhere Dana searched.

 

Drown Me Slowly

 

I've got a will this time I don't care what you say  
I've got a feeling this will all go away  
It's in the wind this time it's in the southern sky  
I can't walk on water yet won't even try  
~Audioslave~

 

John stood in the doorway and examined the scene that had been repeated over and over the last two days. Dean checking all of Sam’s vitals, massaging his feet, checking the IV lines, petting Aristotle, who was sprawled out next to Sam, before slowly, almost painfully, lowering himself back down into the chair pulled up next to the bed.

“Dean.” John said from the doorway in a loud voice.

Dean didn’t even flinch.

John stepped closer, repeated, even louder, “Dean.”

No response.

John strode across the room and planted himself directly in front of his son.

It didn’t even garner a glance in his direction.

“You will look at me when I speak to you.”

“Huh?” Dean moved his head up a fraction. “What?”

John ran a hand through his own hair. “Dean, this has to stop. You need to eat, sleep. And you need to tend to your daughter.”

Dean’s eyes were glassy, seemingly not comprehending.

“I’m missing something Dad.”

Maybe Dean was losing it. The boy had fought his way through death and destruction many a time, mostly with a wisecrack and a smirk firmly in place. But, everyone had a tolerance threshold and losing Sam seemed to be Dean’s. John wasn’t the least bit surprised.

Dean blinked, sat up a bit straighter.

“Dad, I know I’m missing something.”

“Yes. You are. Your mental stability. You’ve had no sleep in over two days and very little to eat. Your daughter has not left her room in two days. You need to pull it together and go and deal with her.”

“Dana hasn’t been out of her room in two days?” Dean’s eyes managed a bit more focus, awareness, a bit of a spark.

“After she left this room after…,” John didn’t want to put words to anything about Dana’s failed attempt to locate Sam’s healing power. He cleared his throat to cover his stumbling. “She flew down the hall into her room, slammed the door and hasn’t surfaced since. Knocking on her door is getting no response. You need to deal with her. Not her fault.”

Dean’s expression changed from vaguely concerned to downright perplexed. “No, not her fault, at all. Why would she think that?”

Relieved that he evoked some reaction, John reached over to pry Dean out of the chair. “I’ll watch Sam. Go make Dana something to eat then go and talk to her. Then you need to sleep.” John watched Dean’s face carefully, braced for the presumed argument.

Instead Dean stood and walked out of the room. John smiled, petted Aristotle and received a soft whine of gratitude, before he lowered himself into the chair and commenced his turn watching over Sam.

 

Dana’s door wasn’t locked. Dean stopped and pondered why his Dad hadn’t simply opened her door to see what was going on inside. Knowing John, he had some good reason. Dean was too tired to attempt to puzzle together what strange John logic applied.

Dean crossed the threshold and saw piles of books, blankets and clothes strewn everywhere. A localized tornado had hit this room and, by the looks of it, it rated a category F5.

At first he didn’t see Dana. It fleetingly crossed his mind that maybe she had destroyed the room then took off. He scanned the room a second time and barely saw the top of her hair over some oversized, yellow book.

He crossed the room, sat down on the edge of her bed and pulled the book away out of her hands.

He passed her a milkshake accompanied by one word, “Drink.”

Dean had been staring into her beautiful face for eighteen years. He knew every twist of her mouth, wrinkle of her nose, eyebrow quirk. He had seen her happy, sad, mad, victorious, frightened, regretful.

Right now, the only word to describe what he saw was sorrow.

She obeyed him, drank down half the glass before pausing for air. Her hair was standing on end and she reached up to pull at it. Dean looked around the room until he spotted the box of tissues. He reached over, grabbed a handful, passed them to Dana with another one word order, “Blow.”

Again, she did exactly as instructed.

“Have you slept at all?” Dean asked.

“Have you?” she tossed back at him.

“Touche.”

She resumed drinking the milkshake until she finished and passed back the glass. “Just the right amount of chocolate and coffee flavor balance. Thanks.” She paused a second before adding. “I know you drugged it. Don’t think you’re fooling me.”

Dean’s lips turned upwards. “You aren’t the only one. Your Papa told me I could take a sleeping pill or a right cross to the jaw, my choice.”

She snorted. “Which ya gonna choose?” Dean smiled despite himself. Dana always seemed more like Sam to him, intelligent, studious, devious, clever and, most importantly, psychic. But, in times like these, when things were dire, she was a mini-Dean, all bravado, smart mouth, never say die.

“The answer is here,” she waved at the books, “or in some book. I know I’m missing something.”

Dean’s eyes widened at that last bit. “What did you say?”

“I’m missing something. Just out of my grasp. Something I should know or do but can’t quite put my finger on it. Can feel it in my gut.”

“Really?” Dean hesitated before adding, “I’ve had that same feeling in my gut for the last 24 hours.”

Their eyes met and held. Seconds ticked by. Dana reached out gently to touch Dean’s mind. Their lack of experience with each other made it awkward but she managed to pass her sense of ‘overlooking something’ to him and reached for his. Dean felt her react through their watery link.

The signature pattern on their feeling on something ‘missing’ was jarringly similar, as if a cookie cutter had been used to create the feeling.

Dana let go of this shared sense and Dean felt the link pop like a bubble burst.

“Christ. Do you think Sam’s trying to tell us something?” Dana asked in a reverent tone. “Naw. Can’t be. His mind is a mess. I just don’t see how.” She bit her fingernails, twisted her hair, pulled her legs up to her chest. “Yet, too weird to be a fluke. Too fucking weird.”

Then in a little voice, “Dad, some of the damage….,” her voice trailed off.

“What about some of the damage sweetheart?” Part of Dean really didn’t want to hear this.

“He caused some of it. I read in one of these books,” she pointed to the mess strewn about her room, “that you can tear up your own thoughts to protect something.”

“Like protect us?” Dean asked gently.

“Yeah, exactly, like protect us,” she acknowledged shaking her head. “He’s such a damn martyr.”

“He loves us,” Dean really didn’t want to think about any of it. “And we need some sleep, both of us.”

Dean stood up and pointed to the bed. Dana propped herself up to standing and crawled under the covers. He kissed her head. “Love you sweetheart. Sleep, we’ll talk more in the morning.”

Her eyes met his again, held them, “Love you too Daddy.”

He was almost out the door when she called after him, “I’ll never give up you know.”

 

Dean was semi-aware of being shaken violently. There was a voice, far off, saying something over and over then the shaking, the voice, the shaking, the voice…..

Dean struggled for consciousness but it eluded him, coherency way far off in the distance. He stretched for it but felt like he was on a half mile long treadmill that was just going too fast to ever make any progress.

More shaking, louder voice. Then quiet. Dean was going under when something icy cold touched his forehead. He struggled, batted at it.

“Wake up Dad.” A very loud voice, commanding.

Dean opened one eye and focused. It was Dana standing over him, very cold something on his head.

“Whaaa?” Dean tried to spit the word out.

“I know where it is. Well, pretty sure. Really pretty sure.”

 

The Rising

 

Come on up for the rising  
Come on up, lay your hands in mine  
Come on up for the rising  
Come on up for the rising tonight  
~Springsteen~

 

Dave was upstairs tending to Sam, tube feeding and changing his dressings. Dana needed to talk to John and Dean. So, she herded John into the living room and returned upstairs to shake Dean into some approximation of wakefulness. She helped Dean stumble his way downstairs, plopped him into the armchair and wrapped his hands around a mug of coffee.

Dean sat, leaned over awkwardly, in the chair, face a shade of chartreuse, clinging to the mug. Dana wasn’t sure if his state really qualified as awake or not.

“Papa, what the hell did you give him?” Dana snapped, more than a little perturbed with her grandfather.

John had the decency to look slightly abashed. “Knew if I didn’t drug him, he’d sleep twenty minutes and demand to resume watch.”

“It’s been ten hours and he’s barely lucid. Whatever he dosed me with let me sleep a few hours and feel better.”

“Didna gi yut nuthin,” Dean slurred.

Dana jumped and looked toward her father. Some of the coffee had dribbled down his shirt. He really looked pathetic, hair matted to the side of his head, pillow marks on his cheeks and coffee stains down his front.

But, they had to talk now, while Dave was here with Sam. No choice. “Ok Dad, try to focus. Do you remember me waking you about five hours ago?”

Dana stared at Dean, willing him to consciousness with the force of her personality.

She whacked her own head. “Of course you don’t, silly question.”

Dana reached out to check on Dave, who was about half way done. She had to hurry.

“Dad and I both felt we are missing something. I compared our feelings and they are identical, same pattern, texture. Which frankly, just isn’t possible unless they are coming from the same source.” She paused, checked to make sure Dean was awake, bumped his leg a little. A little more coffee spilled, this time into his lap.

“I was asleep about five hours and I was dreaming.” Dana blushed, the next part was a tad embarrassing. “It was a sex dream.”

She checked John and Dean’s expressions but their faces were blank. Well, John ‘s was blank. Dean’s was still that dreadful shade of green mixed in with a haze of incomprehension.

“When I woke, I remembered the dream.” Dana looked at them both. Neither registered any level of understanding.

“Don’t you get it?” She asked. Obviously, they did not.

“Guys, I only remember my psychic premonition dreams. I never remember my personal dreams.”

They just looked at her like she was an alien.

“Sam sent me that dream to tell me what I was missing.”

Still no reaction. She tried again.

“Whenever I’ve been in Sam’s head, I’ve never found any sex memories. Dad, am I safe in assuming that Sam has a decent memory of his sex life?”

Dean lifted the mug to his mouth, swallowed a bit and mumbled, “Yeah.”

She realized she had to spell out the whole thing although she hadn’t wanted to. In a rush of words, she spilled.

“After I infiltrated Sam’s mind when I was thirteen, Sam reordered things to keep me out. I knew that. I didn’t know what he did though. Last night, when I woke up from the dream, I realized that when I was in his head helping him during the blowback, there were no sex memories. It’s what’s missing. He’s locked them away from prying eyes.”

John sat up, finally clicking into her point. “So, you’re saying that he has hidden the healing power with his sex memories?”

“Yeah, I think so. Likely the most secure part of his mind. Dad and I are getting a vague message from him and the dream definitely was telling me that. It’s probably orderly in there, undamaged.”

Dean surprisingly spoke up then, coherently. “So, go in and get it. Whatcha waitin’ for?”

Dana laughed, overjoyed that they understood, finally. “Oh, he built the sex memory vault to keep me out. I’ll never get in.”

John reached for his phone. “I’ll call Missouri then.”

Dana laughed harder. “Good lord Papa. He’d never let her in.”

She looked at both of them, sure they’d catch on to what had to be done. Again, blank faces. She loved them desperately but they could be a tad slow at times.

“There’s only person he’s going to let in there.” She smiled angelically and pointed directly at Dean.

 

Whole Lotta Love

You've been learnin, baby, I been learnin,  
All them good times, baby, baby, I've been yearnin,  
Way, way down inside honey, you need it,  
Im gonna give you my love,  
Im gonna give you my love.

Wanna whole lotta love?  
Wanna whole lotta love?  
Wanna whole lotta love?  
Wanna whole lotta love?

~Willie Dixon~

 

Dean nodded off slumped over in the chair. He woke six hours later spread out on the couch with Aristotle tucked under his right arm, a pillow under his head and a blanket tossed over his back.

He was parched. His mouth felt like the Mojave on a 120 degree day. He heard voices, arguing, in the kitchen. Dad and Dana. He jerked realizing that Sam was alone and that he had to go help him. He grabbed for the arm of the couch to prop himself up and promptly knocked the lamp to the ground.

The kitchen door swung open and Dana strode into the living room. “Hello Sleeping Beauty. How are you feeling?” Her tone was teasing but the tension around her eyes reflected her true concern. She reached to steady him.

“Sam?” Dean managed, wiped at his eyes, covered thickly in crust from way too much sleep.

“Scott is upstairs sitting with him while I make us a decent meal. Papa was helping me.”

Dean looked at her oddly. That wasn’t helping that he heard. “Arguing.”

Dana put an arm around his waist. Dean shrugged her off.

“Yeah, Papa and I have been going at one another for hours. He overdoses you, could of killed you, and he somehow doesn’t think it’s a problem. He’s a piece of work.”

“Gotta go help Sam.” From the moment he had opened his eyes, Dean remembered that he needed to get into Sam’s head, find the healing power, get him back. He’d been dreaming of nothing else for the past six hours.

“We’re gonna help Sam. After you’ve showered, consumed some liquids, eaten a meal. You gotta be strong and stable to do this. Must be sure that horse strength dose of tranquilizers is out of your system.”

John walked into the room. “It was not a horse strength dose, young lady.” John looked Dean up and down. “Good to see you on your feet son. Let me help you upstairs.”

Since John rarely offered that type of support, Dean took it as the apology it was.

“Dinner in Sam’s room in fifteen minutes.” Dana called at them as they headed to the staircase.

 

Dana, Dean, John and Scott ate prime rib and scalloped potatoes at a table set up in the bedroom, in order to keep a close eye on Sam. Dinner talk was purposefully casual. Discussion of Scott’s summer job at the local camp running the sports program, Scott’s training regime, the hot weather, summer league basketball, old man Harper’s crappy Impala engine.

Sam’s name wasn’t mentioned although Dean snuck continuous looks in his direction. Sam looked gray and, overall probably worse, since the bruises on his face and arms were developing that ugly, deep purplish-black color. Yet, his breathing was slightly less labored and his blood pressure and heart rate were low but not dangerously so. He was hanging on.

Dean reached out and stroked his feet a few times during the meal to provide Sam with some connection to them.

After they all consumed seconds, Scott and Dana picked up all the plates and headed downstairs. John called after them, “Lovely meal Dana.”

When the kids were out of hearing range, Dean looked at his father. “Scott?”

“Called this morning, wanted to know how Sam was, asked if he could come over. From what I could gather,” Dean raised an eyebrow. John continued, “Ok, from what I overhead while shamelessly eavesdropping, Scott told her that they could work it all out after the crisis is over. He kissed her on the forehead and asked to see Sam.”

“Amazing kid,” Dean stated.

“I’d say so. See your girlfriend do some freaky mind stuff and not even demand an explanation. He should be canonized or something.”

Dean laughed. “If I remember correctly, you wanted to castrate him a couple of months ago, in my kitchen.”

John looked fake-shocked at the suggestion but quickly capitulated. “Funny how things change, huh?”

Dana bounded back into the room. “Scott said to say ‘bye’.”

Dana examined Dean up and down, as if he were a prized stud at auction. “You look okay, nice pink glow to your skin, eyes are responsive.” She twisted quickly and moved to kick him in the gut. He blocked her foot with his arm. “Reflexes good.”

Dean cocked his head at her weird inspection. He had no desire to wait one moment more. “Let’s do this.”

She rubbed her hands over her face and then pointed to the armchair. “Sit, there’s a bunch of shit you’ve got to know.”

Dean sat down in the arm chair while John took Sam’s vitals, logging them dutifully in the chart next to the bed. Aristotle uncurled herself from Sam’s feet and leapt into Dean’s arms. Dana pulled up another chair to sit directly across from Dean and looked uncharacteristically serious.

“Dad. I’m going to deposit you into Sam’s head. And it’s a bloody mess in there. Think of how the backyard looks and translate it into how Sam’s mind feels. Chaos and destruction. You can’t let the misery in there slow you down. You have to shield and move forward.”

“How am I supposed to do that Dana?”

“Just float until you come to the vault. I’m guessing but I suspect he’ll pull you toward it like he sent me the dream. It’s the only strong part of him left. He’ll want you there.”

“Ok, I can do that.” Dean moved to dislodge Ari and stand up.

Dana put a hand on his knee to stop him. “Not done yet.”

Dean settled back into the chair, glanced over at John, who was changing the saline bag, before redirecting his focus to Dana.

Dana’s posture had changed from straight to slightly slouched into herself. “You won’t be able to just walk in. He’s got padlocks on it.” Dana stopped, a flush crept up her cheeks.

“What is it Dana? Are the locks a problem?” Dean studied her face, uncertain what to make of her sudden demeanor change.

“Well, you know how you pick a lock? Well this lock you have to…” Dana muttered the final word so softly that Dean didn’t hear it. Dana turned a slightly deeper pink, a shade of cherry blossom.

“You’re embarrassed Dana. I get that. And most days I’d tell you that I don’t really want to discuss sex with you. But, I have to get myself into Sam’s sex memories so out with it.” Dean demanded, knowing there was no way to skirt around this. He was anxious to get in there, felt the desire for activity tighten his shoulder blades. Too much time had been wasted with his drugged-out marathon sleeping session.

Quietly but enunciating clearly, Dana repeated, “Seduce. You have to seduce your way past the locks.” She rushed to add, “Don’t know for sure exactly but it’s a safe guess.”

Dean actually laughed and John joined in. “Like flowers and candy and Marvin Gaye?” John asked.

Dana shook her head, obviously not finding it the least bit funny. “I’m guessing whatever move you use when you want some, and Sam doesn’t, is probably a safe bet. Convince him.” Dana’s color had become distinctly fuchsia.

Again, Dean replied, “Ok, I can do that,” and moved to dislodge Ari and stand.

Again, Dana put a hand on his knee to keep him seated. “Not done yet.” She exhaled loudly. “And this is the hard part.”

Dana was a full-on beet red. Dean felt terrible for her, realized he need to grant permission. “Dana, it’s okay. You can’t offend me. Just say it so we can do this.” A ghost of a grateful smile appeared on her lips.

“You’ll be surrounded by the memories with no control from Sam. And I’m guessing they will feel really good. The temptation to sink into a memory and relive it will be…,” she struggled for the word before settling on, “overwhelming.” She cleared her throat. “I can only imagine how great it would be to feel Sam up close and personal after the last few days. And he’ll be desperate to feel you as well. He has to be terrified knowing he’s a vegetable right now.”

Dean’s gut clenched. He would feel Sam, his Sam. And Sam would be reaching for him, desperate. But Dana was telling him he couldn’t succumb. “Why not Dana? What’s the problem? Why can’t I reassure him, comfort him?”

“I can’t afford for you to get trapped in there. Remember, I can’t get you out. Sam isn’t ‘Sam’, all reasonable and balanced. He’s scared. Plus, you’re essentially going to abscond with his healing power. He trusts you but you’re going to grab and leave with the one thing he fought to keep safe.”

Dana held up a hand to stop Dean’s next question. “I’m speculating here but I really strongly suspect the whole attack had to do with ripping Sam’s healing power out of his mind. That filthy thing wanted it bad. Sam’s struggle was all about protecting it. And I’m sending you in to seduce him, get into the vault, avoid wonderful memories, grab the power and run like hell back out.”

“So, after I do all that, what then?”

Dana smiled. “That’s easy. I’ll reach in and together we’ll activate the power. Then, I’ll pluck you out of his head.” Dana reached over and whispered into Dean’s ear. “Really try to avoid getting trapped in a memory, Dad. I really don’t want to sit here and watch you get off.”

Dean flushed crimson.

 

After a bit of deliberation, they agreed it would be best for Dean to lay down next to Sam. Dean stretched out and grabbed Sam’s hand, pulled it to his lips, scooted close to Sam’s ear. “Hey babe. I’m coming in to help you. You have to let me in, help me out, ok?” Holding Sam’s hand to his lips, he kissed it soothingly, before pulling the hand down and surrounding it with both of his.

“Relax Dad. Close your eyes and relax.”

“Am relaxed Dana. Let’s do this thing.” Dana huffed at him, put her hand on his forehead and put a chokehold around his thoughts.

Dean gasped, couldn’t suck in air. Dana conveniently had failed to mention that surrendering his psyche felt a hell of a lot like suffocation.

From a distance he heard, “Relax…don’t flail…relax…sit still damn it…relax,” in Dana’s voice and John voice uttering something he couldn’t discern.

Suddenly, he sucked in a huge lungful of air followed immediately by a blankness, complete absence of emotion, just a vast open space, then an agonizingly loud pop.

Then - utter and complete agony and chaos all around him. Dean felt like he was inside the Normandy invasion scene from Saving Private Ryan, bullets flying everywhere, men shouting and swearing, blood turning the water red, men writhing, seemingly no rhyme or reason.

But, it wasn’t Omaha Beach on June 6, 1944. Dean had arrived smack dab in the middle of Sam’s destroyed mind. He quickly erected every shield he had ever learned and the explosions dampened. He could think. Executing the cocooning shield that Dana had demonstrated, Dean created a soft buffer around himself that floated. Dana was convinced that Dean would be dragged to the vault. Dean just had to wait and do his best to block off the constant noise.

He didn’t have to wait long.

In just a few seconds, Dean felt he was floating, purposefully downward, dragged by something. The urge to reach outside the shell to examine the sensation was so enormously tempting. But, he resisted, trusted that Dana was right, that he was being delivered to the correct destination.

A soft splash of color crossed in front of Dean’s eyes as he bumped into something. Dean lowered the shell and tentatively reached out and touched a wall, of sorts. The wall wasn’t solid, more like a series of vapors woven together into a psychedelic pattern. And it wasn’t damaged. Chaos surrounded it but the wall itself seemed unaffected. Dean felt a surge of pride in Sam’s ability to shield this piece of himself.

Dean caressed it then and the vapors shifted, ended up a bit denser. _Sammy, let me in babe._ He caressed some more. The pattern flowered and emitted a sweet rosy glow.

_Hi Sammy. Yeah, I missed you too. Need You. Want You. Let me in babe._

The wall altered again, the vapors slightly less thick, the color more a faint yellow now.

_Come on Sam. I’ll do whatever you want. Give you whatever you need._

Dean felt a warmth suffuse him, from his neck down his spine. Arousal. Although he was unclear as to whether it was his or Sam’s.

_Sam, don’t leave me hanging man. Need You._

The vapors became wisps then and the color deepened to an amber. The center of the wall continued to soften and Dean psychically stepped forward, through the hole, and into Sam’s secure vault.

Calm. Dean was struck by the peace of this place, like a Shinto shrine. Just outside, there was nothing but pain and suffering. Inside, the calmest place Dean had ever ventured. Dean walked two steps forward and was suffused by the presence of Sam. It knocked him to his knees.

_Sammy, I love you so much._

Dean held out his hand and felt a memory tug at it, pulling Dean towards it.

Succumbing was forbidden. Dana had made that abundantly clear. But he had no ability or desire to resist feeling Sam surround him, stroke him, love him. Dean headed toward the memory, forgetting all he had been told. Dove in head first and arrived with a splash.

He was at Yosemite. Drunk. Laughing. Somewhere in the forest, pushing Dean up against the tree, biting his neck. Waterfall off in the distance.

With a start, it dawned on Dean that the memory was Sam’s. Sam’s perspective, Sam’s passion, Sam’s desire. Dean knew this scene. It was only a few weeks old. That night in Yosemite, in the forest, the rock, dominant Sam, Dean fucked to senselessness. Dean smiled. Couldn’t wait to see exactly how that night felt to Sam.

_Sam inhaled, pulling in the combined scents of pine tree and Dean’s sweat. Sam’s dick lengthened as he pushed Dean into the tree, covered Dean’s back with his chest, whispering filth into his ear. Sam’s hand dove into Dean’s jeans and stroked his cock. Reacting to the feel of Dean’s hard cock, heat suffused his neck and shoulders._

_Sam wiped the pre-come off the tip and pulled his hand out, offered it to Dean to lick. “Saw that rock earlier. Gonna lay you across it and have my way.”_

_Sam yanked Dean up and off the tree by the hair and marched him further into the forest. Sam was panting for air, cock hard and aching in his jeans._

_They arrived at the rock and Sam released Dean. “Strip.”_

_Sam kept his eyes locked on Dean’s as Dean pulled his sweatshirt up and over his head. Unbuttoned his plaid shirt and let it drop to the ground. Yanked his t-shirt off and threw it. Kicked his boots off, shoved his jeans down to display his cock, red and standing straight out at attention, cock ring in place._

_“Gorgeous. Absolutely fucking gorgeous. Now suck my cock, slut.”_

_Sam groaned as Dean sunk to his knees, unzipped Sam and extricated his dick. At the first touch of lips, Sam reached for Dean’s head and stroked approvingly._

_“Fucking love your mouth.” Sam shoved down the desire to fuck into Dean’s mouth, wanted to fuck into his ass more._

_Somewhere, from far away, Dean heard something, faint, a warning. Dean ignored it, plunged back into the smooth velvet ecstasy of the memory._

_Sam was close, felt the familiar tightening in the gut, didn’t want it to end. Roughly pushed Dean’s mouth off his cock._

_“Up. Turn around.”_

_Sam watched, enthralled and aroused beyond reason, as Dean turned, agonizingly slowly, to display a purple butt plug embedded in his perfect ass. Sam reached into his jacket pocket and turned the switch on. Felt his dick twitch at the sight of Dean tensing up at the sensation._

_“Bend over that rock.”_

_Dean walked forward, bent over, spread out over the rock._

_Sam kneaded his fingers into Dean’s ass, gave it three quick slaps, admired the heat generated._

_Sam turned the butt plug up to its highest level. Stepped back to watch Dean writhe and started to undress._

Something was desperate to distract Dean. Dana. Felt like bees buzzing around his head in a frenzy. She wanted him out of the memory.

With a start, he knew she saw his arousal. She knew he’d succumbed. He pushed his way out.

Dean reached back to stroke the edge of the memory, shimmering gold and ruby red in its desire for him to return. _Can’t Sammy. Don’t be mad. Have something else to do. Want to but can’t. Love you._

With a pit of regret, Dean moved on. The memories started to bombard him, tempting him from all sides, but he voyaged on. There – off in the distance.

Dana had explained it often enough. Solid, unlike any other psychic element. Silver and shimmery. Dean thought it looked a bit like an alien ship in an old B movie.

Dean moved close and reached out to it. Warmth and security.

_Got to come with me. Need to help Sam. Follow me, ok?_

Dean had no idea if it was prescient in any way. He headed toward what he believed to be the exit. It followed. Joy permeated through him.

He was within a few yards of the vaporous wall when Dean was lashed by anger. Sam was reaching for the healing power and pulling it back inside.

_No babe. It has to come with me. You gotta trust me Sammy. Want to make you better. Please babe. Don’t fight. I know you’re scared. Got to heal you Sammy. Please._

Dean felt Sam’s sense of betrayal, saw the silver drift away from him.

Dean broke out in a cold sweat. So close. Maybe only three or four yards to an escape, to healing, to getting his Sam back for real.

Dean resorted to basic pleading, tears streaming down his face.

_Please baby. It’s Dean. I’ve never lied to you, ever. I’ve always had your back. I would never betray you. You are everything. Trust me Sammy, please._

Dean sobbed, fell to his knees, opened himself completely to let Sam feel his complete honesty.

With a groan, the hole in the wall re-opened. Dean lunged for the healing power and ran through the hole. With no shields in place, the pandemonium of Sam’s mind clobbered him from all sides. Dean was slammed onto his back, grief slicing at his gut.

He felt a hand and he struggled to grab for it. Dana. She wrapped her hand around his and reached them out to the healing power. They touched its shimmery exterior and dove their hands in. Pulsating warmth. Linked together, they nudged its core, told it to go to work.

Dean legs gave way, nothing left emotionally to hold him up. Dana tossed him up into the mental equivalent of a fireman’s hold and headed up and out.

 

Waitin' on a Sunny Day

 

I'm waitin', waitin' on a sunny day  
Gonna chase the clouds away  
Waitin' on a sunny day  
~Bruce Springsteen~

 

“John, what the hell did you or your boy do?”

Dave was standing over Sam, having just finished taking his vitals and checking his wounds.

“What’d you mean?” John replied in carefully measured tone.

Dave turned around to face down John Winchester and stated through clenched teeth. “You know exactly what I mean. His heart rate and blood pressure are normal. His lungs sound incredible. And maybe, just maybe, I could accept that improvement alone. But, his chest wounds are almost closed. Not to mention, the bruising, which was only getting to full bloom, is in complete fade. What the hell did you do in the last twelve hours?”

John smiled, despite the heat in Dave’s voice. “Can’t tell you that Dave. But, he’s looking good, isn’t he?”

“Good? He looks fucking great. Skin is pink. He’s warm to the touch. I’ve been struggling for days trying to figure out when to tell you that you had to resign yourself to letting him go and now, this?” Dave pointed to Sam, who looked like he was napping peacefully.

“Glad to hear it Dave, really glad. Think he’ll wake soon?” John’s tone was light, airy.

“John Winchester. I sew up hunters all the time but you know my rule, no dark stuff. I don’t believe in it and won’t have anything to do with it. This reeks of a spell or a deal or some evil. I’ve looked the other way quite a bit for you Winchesters but I can not overlook this.”

Dave’s face was stone cold fury, jaw tight, eyes locked on John.

John shook his head, trying to diffuse the situation. “Dave, no dark stuff. I swear. I can’t tell you what did happen but I can assure you, no dark stuff. Really an organic thing.”

“Organic? Like from a vegetable garden? I wasn’t born yesterday.” Dave looked ready to ready to pop John squarely in the nose.

Dean strolled into the room, rubbing his wet head with a towel. “How is he?”

Dave’s head jerked toward Dean. “He’s amazing. I wouldn’t be in the least bit surprised if he’s awake by morning.”

Dean’s face broke into a huge smile, truly like the sun shining down. He crossed over to the bed and placed a hand on Sam’s cheek. “Glad to hear it, Dave.”

“You two are something else. Standing there like complete innocents. How could you?”

Dean’s face scrunched up. “How could we what?”

John turned to Dean, wanted to put out the fire before the match was lit. “Dave thinks one of us did something dark to help Sam heal. I reassured him that wasn’t true.”

Dave huffed, clearly not buying a word of it. “I’m gonna talk to Missouri. You better hope she backs your story.”

 

Scott and Dana sat across from one another on her bed, both cross legged, knees touching.

“So, what do you want to know?” Dana asked. She never wanted to have this conversation. Yet, Scott deserved to have his questions answered as truthfully as possible.

“Part of me wants to know everything and another part of me knows that probably isn’t wise. So, I guess I don’t know what I want to know.”

Dana inclined her head. “Ok, I get that. How about I tell you what I can and if you have any questions, you can ask?”

Scott nodded.

“First of all, I want to thank you. You’ve been great, so helpful. I really thought I’d never hear from you again after the day of the attack.”

Scott pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. Dana felt tears behind her eyes. Pushed them down.

“You know the rule, no talking about Sam. So, there will be holes here. But the super short version, Sam found Dad eighteen years ago. It was intentional on Sam’s part. A group he worked for wanted me, for my abilities. I was a baby.”

Dana paused, considered what to say next. “The way things worked out, we came to live here. Sam and Dad were already in love, just had a bunch of stuff to work out. Sam has some powers of his own and he helped me with mine, Missouri too.”

Scott looked deep in thought. “You and Sam have some kind of connection, right?”

Dana smiled. “Yes. We do…at least, we did.”

“Can you tell me why he was attacked?”

There it was. The million dollar question. She replied, “No, not without talking too much about Sam.”

Scott’s forehead wrinkled. “Was it after you, not Sam?”

Dana was puzzled before the light bulb went off. She raced to reassure him. “No, Scott. Whatever it was, it was after Sam, not me.”

For a second, Dana thought Scott was done, satisfied. She exhaled and went to crawl off the bed. Scott’s hand held her in place. “And your powers? What haven’t you told me?”

The dreaded question. Basically, Scott wanted to know how big a freak she was. “You knew I could move stuff. I can touch minds Scott. But, I swear to you that I have never peeked inside your head. Swear on all that I love.”

He seemed satisfied with that. Pulled her toward him. She settled into his warmth. But, then pulled back.

“Scott, what the hell is that beeping noise? So annoying.”

Scott scrunched his face. “There’s no beeping Dana. You okay?”

“You can’t hear that? …oh Christ…” Dana jumped up and flew out the door.

She stopped outside her father's bedroom, staring gratefully at the scene in front of her, suppressing her tears.

Dean was cradling Sam in his arms and kissing the side of his face over and over, Sam’s head tightly pulled into his shoulder.

Sam’s eyes were open - fat, watery tears soaking his face and creating trails down his neck.

 

 

No One Like You

Just imagine the things we'll do  
I just wanna be loved by you.  
There's no one like you!  
~The Scorpions~

 

Dana felt Scott’s arms encircle her and his head rest on her shoulder. She leaned into his embrace, savored this moment of Sam’s awakening, of Sam securely wrapped in her Dad’s arms.

Dana was thankful beyond reason. She wasn’t convinced of a god or many gods or any god but she was grateful to each and every one of them anyway.

Scott whispered, “I need to get home. I’ll call you in the morning.”

Dana inclined her head in a small affirmative nod, not trusting herself with words. Scott kissed her cheek before releasing her and heading down the stairs.

There was barking and the sound of Aristotle came racing up the stairs. She had been out with John for a short walk. Ari flew between Dana’s feet, across the bedroom and leapt up and onto the bed. She jumped up, front paws on Sam’s shoulders and licked at the wet on Sam’s face, tail wagging at a hundred beats a minute.

Dana rushed across the room and grabbed at Ari’s belly, pulling her back.

“I’m thrilled too Ari but I don’t think he’s ready for your weight on him,” Dana kissed the words into Ari’s forehead while rubbing her belly. Ari squirmed, desperate to get next to her Sam.

Dean lowered Sam back down to the pillows, adjusted Sam’s body, kept a hand on him for contact.

From the staircase, John called, “Aristotle, what the hell got into you, you silly animal?” Dana turned to tell him to quiet down and saw him stop dead in his tracks at the threshold to the room

John’s right hand grabbed for the doorway and leaned a bit of his weight into it. His deep, age-worn smile creased his face. “Well, hello my son.”

Sam’s eyes reacted, attempted to track that voice. John crossed the room, sat on the edge of the bed, stroked Sam’s hair out of his eyes. Tears resumed their trail down Sam’s cheeks, now dripping off his chin onto his chest.

“Don’t cry Sam. I know you’re hurt and confused but you’re going to be fine. We got you this far and we’ll get you the rest of the way. It‘s great to see those eyes of yours.” John continued to stroke his hair as Sam’s eyes got heavy and gradually closed.

Dean put his head down on the bed, a slump from the bitter batter of exhaustion and utter relief.

Dana pulled Aristotle close into her body and hugged her for all she was worth.

 

Dana walked into the bedroom the next morning to find her Dad, eyes wide open, curled around a sleeping Sam in the bed.

“Did you get any sleep?” Dana asked, rubbing her eyes, hoping that someone had remembered to set the coffee maker last night, sniffing to detect if the pleasant scent of java was in the air.

Dean didn’t reply, didn’t even turn toward her, just kept his eyes trained on Sam.

“Um, Dad?” Dana cleared her throat.

“He woke every couple of hours. Always agitated. And I can’t sense him.” Dean sounded bereft.

Dana grabbed the rocker, pushed it close to the bed and tugged to get her Dad to turn toward her. “Listen. You were in his mind. It’s completely torn up. It’s going to take a long time for him to be really better, even with his awesome power. I have no idea how long it’ll take before he can move or talk.”

Dean eyes were unfocused, exhaustion and disappointment weighing them down. “Do you hear me?” she prodded.

Nodding his head, Dean replied, “I’m not surprised Dana. I just hate that he’s so damaged and I can’t reach him, assure him.”

“But he knew us Dad. That was obvious immediately. He knew us and was happy and that’s so good. His psychic injuries are severe. His memories are torn to shreds. It will heal though…in time.”

“Want to feel him Dana. Want to talk to him and know he understands.”

Dana bit at her nails, pondering the problem. “Well….I can link you to him, I think, but…”

“No buts. Do it.” Dean’s tone was adamant, eyes converted into a sparkling emerald green.

“But, it will hurt you Dad. He’s in pain and you’ll feel it.”

“Don’t care Dana. Do it.”

Dana bit some more. There wasn’t much nail left. “It’s really not wise.”

Dean scoffed, “And when in your eighteen years have you done anything particularly wise?”

Dana ignored him, shook her head. “Don’t want to hurt you Dad. Sam wouldn’t want that either.”

“My decision Dana. Do it.” His eyes on fire, fueled by hope and yearning.

Dana threw up her hands and stood, “Lemme get some coffee first.”

 

“Dad, listen to me. When I told you to stay out of the memories, you dove right in. You have to pay attention to me.”

Dean looked at Dana. He hated when his eighteen year old daughter saw fit to lecture him.

“Stop it Dana and just link us up.” Dana’s need for coffee had expanded into a need for a run, then a shower and then a chat with Scott.

It was noon now. Dean finally had exhausted every ounce of patience, pulled her by the hair, sat her down and ordered her to get on with it.

“Shield. You don’t have the skill to deal with the constant onslaught of pain.”

“And he does?” Dean was sick of her acting like he couldn’t tolerate pain. She was stalling and he wanted to connect with Sam right the fuck now.

Dana threw up her hands. “Fine. I didn’t think it was possible to out-stubborn Papa. Jesus.”

Dana reached for Dean’s hand and Sam’s hand. Placed Sam’s on top of Dean’s. Dean felt a sizzle behind his eyes followed by a buzzing, the bee sound again, circling his head. Sam’s eyes popped open, puzzled look across his face.

Then a glow, soft yellow like the rising morning sun in spring, and the sense of Sam flooded through him with a roar. Pain too but Dean didn’t care in the least. Full bore Sam, his scent, his touch, Dean swore he heard his laugh. Dean studied Sam’s face, which transformed from puzzled to serene.

_Sammy?_

_Ddde. Ddd. De._

_Hi. You feel great. You’re gonna be fine._

Sam wasn’t exactly convinced, of that Dean was certain. Dean however was sufficiently convinced for both of them.

Dean reached out to mentally assure Sam. Sam washed across him, circled him, raced into Dean’s arms, rested his head on Dean’s chest, sighed in psychic joy.

Dean cuddled Sam close, physically and mentally.

Out loud, Dean said, “Thank you Dana.”

 

When the Levee Breaks

When the levee breaks I'll have no place to stay.  
Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan,  
Lord, mean old levee taught me to weep and moan

 

John entered the kitchen, arms full of groceries. Dana was right behind him holding three more bags.

They had purchased all of Sam’s favorite foods. It was a week today since Sam awakened. He was on a liquid diet for a few days and then soft foods. He wasn’t eating much, just swallowing consumed a significant amount of his effort and concentration, and, although he had no choice, he seemed to hate being spoon fed. Plus, just keeping him awake long enough to get down eight ounces of dietary supplement was a chore.

John had decided they should take the infant food approach, cook foods Sam loved and puree them. So, it would taste like real food and Sam would eat more. At least theoretically.

It was tough not to be a bit discouraged.

Sam was alert for only short bursts of time. And when he was, he was so wrapped up with Dean that John was unsure if he realized anyone else was even there. Dean was his lifeline, his relief, and Sam was clinging tight. Sam only managed blinking, slightly moving his head and swallowing, no other motion than that. His nightmares were horrific, causing Dean to retch from the backwash through their connection.

John was unsure if Dean was getting any sleep at all. Yet, Dean never complained. He tended to Sam unfailingly, patiently. Fed him, teaspoonful after teaspoonful. Massaged his arms and legs. Did the physical therapy exercises every three hours during the daytime. Washed him, dried him, read to him.

Now that John thought of it, he wasn’t actually certain of the last time Dean actually ate a full meal.

Dana put away all the groceries, pulled out a soda, popped the top, swallowed down a big gulp. “What do you want for lunch Papa?”

John shrugged. “Gonna go and relieve Dean. I’ll see what he wants. He needs to eat a solid meal.”

John left the kitchen, headed to the staircase. Heard a soft thumping. Instincts kicked in. He reached for the gun tucked into his jeans behind his back, removed the safety. Spun around to locate the direction of the sound. Stepped carefully toward the dining room.

The sound became slightly louder.

He rounded the corner cautiously and saw Dean’s form huddled in the far corner, banging his head rhythmically against the wall, bump, bump, bump, bump.

“Dean?” John moved gingerly across the room, not wanting to startle him, secured the gun and stuck it away. Bent down inch by inch until he was crouched next to Dean. There was blood flowing from Dean’s ears, eyes, nose, mouth, tiny rivulets of red marking up his head. His hand was in his mouth biting down into the fleshy part of his palm. Eyes scrunched shut. No sound, just the bumping over and over and over.

John was afraid to touch him, worried too that shouting for Dana might harm Dean in some way or push him wholly over the edge.

“Dean?” he repeated, lifted his hand to Dean’s face to turn it toward his own. John used his other hand to pry open Dean’s left eye. Bloodshot, pupils blown. No recognition.

Choosing that moment, Dana shouted loudly and impatiently from the kitchen, “Papa, what does Dad want?” Dean flinched, curled up tighter, head flinging loose from John’s grasp and banging harder.

John clutched Dean’s head to stop the motion. Turned his head and hissed as loud as he dared, “Hush Dana. Get over here.”

Dana, not quiet in the least, came tearing around the corner. Threw herself at them. Reached for Dean’s pulse. Gasped, “Oh god,” and flew back out of the room, dashing upstairs.

Sam. Oh god, had the thing come back for Sam? John’s heart seized up in his chest.

John held Dean’s head in his hands. Didn’t breathe while waiting for Dana to return. Prayed to his Mary.

She was back down in under a minute, the touch of anger obvious from the set of her jaw dissolving his worst fear.

“Sam’s fine. Better than fine actually. Moving his arms and alert, smiled at me, and gave a small wave.”

“What the hell?” John didn’t understand at all.

“I knew that goddamn connection was a shitty idea. Dad doesn’t have the skill, or the desire for that matter, to deny Sam anything. Sam always controlled their connection, you know.” Dana was standing there, hands on hips, pissed off.

“Don’t be cute Dana. Tell me what’s going on here.” John used the Marine voice, his fear resurrecting his tried and true patterns.

Dana harrumphed, “Don’t know exactly but safe bet that Dad just opened himself up wide. And it felt good to Sam, damn good, safe, comforting. And Sam drank it in. Kind of like a psychic vampire. And he sapped Dad royally and, boom! a huge improvement for Sam and Dad,” her voice trailed off and she pointed to the lump that was her father.

“What do we do for Dean?”

“Kick him in the ass?” Dana tossed her hair like a petulant six year old. Then sighed and crossed the room, huddling in front of Dean. She put her hands on his cheeks, closed her eyes.

Dean’s eyes opened of their own volition and settled on John. He emitted a loud groan and slumped. John caught his weight. Dean’s breaths shortened into choked gasps. John stroked his forehead and repeated, “Slow your breathing Dean. In then out. Come on, you can do it. In, Out, In, Out.”

Dean’s breathing evened out, then he seized, a small tremor through his body. Dana reached out to his forehead and the tremors stopped. “Damn fool,” she muttered. “When I tell you to shield, you really should try shielding.”

 

John and Dana sat with Dean for an hour before the small seizures ceased entirely. John cleaned up his face and Dana headed off the seizures when they struck.

Every ten minutes, Dana went upstairs check on Sam. On her second visit, he was visibly shaking, reached for Dana and gripped her hard. She sat on the bed.

Dana smiled at him. “Look at you, moving that arm, good grip. Terrific Sam.”

Sam’s eyes were boring into her. Dana felt the beeping in her head increase, Sam was attempting to reignite their link and connect to her. But, Dana didn’t need their link. She knew exactly what he wanted to know. “Dad’s just resting. He’s fine, just tired Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes told her, clear as day, that he wasn’t buying it. Fooling Sam was never easy, even when he was barely himself.

“Ok, Papa and I drugged him to force him to sleep. He’s really worn down. He’s fine though, relax, ‘kay?” she said in her best forthright voice.

Sam seemed to buy that story a bit better. Probably it should bother her that Sam so easily believed they’d drug Dean. Instead, she was simply relieved that she got him to accept it. Agitating Sam unnecessarily was not on her list of to-dos.

After an hour, Dean opened his eyes. Dana put a hand out to stop any motion. “Gonna hurt like a bitch to move,” she said then added, “you dumbass,” under her breathe.

Dean gasped, “Sam?”

John replied wearily, “He’s fine, much better actually, used all the energy he stole from you and is alert and moving his arms and hands. You must have some good juju.”

Smiling, Dean disregarded Dana’s words and tried to push himself up and out of John’s arms.

Dana hastily put a stop to that. “Whoa, cowboy. What you did was foolhardy at best and probably suicidal at worst. Yes, it helped Sam but you CAN NOT do this. I will break your link if I so much as think you’ll do this shit again. And it will tear Sam up to have that link removed so you better straighten up and do as I say.”

Dean opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by John. “She’s being a bossy brat but she’s right Dean. You can not sacrifice yourself to speed Sam’s recovery.”

Dean gently nodded his assent, a contrition on his face, eyes gleaming despite his beaten up state.

Dana eyed him, deeply skeptical. Her dad never gave in to her that easily, even when he fully agreed.

Dana resigned herself to maintaining a much tighter leash on the mental and physical health of her father. And it was a safe bet that Dana would happily beat some sense into him, if necessary.

 

It's My Life

 

It's my life  
It's now or never  
I ain't gonna live forever  
~Bon Jovi~

 

Dana walked out to the front porch, couple of mugs of steaming black coffee in hand. John was on the swing, neck tilted back.

“Looking at the stars?”

“Uh-huh,” John murmured as he cradled his mug into his chest.

“In Yosemite, the stars were so bright. Thought I could touch them. The whole sky was white. Stupid me thought it was cloud cover at first. When we go back, you have to come with us, okay Papa?”

John glanced her way but returned to gazing upward. “Haven’t spent enough time in my life star gazing. Always out hunting something or fixing an engine. This whole thing…” his words dropped off.

“This whole thing, what?” Dana asked.

“Nothing.” John turned, stepped out of his reverie and faced Dana head on. “We have some things to discuss.”

“Funny you should say that. Yeah, I’ve got some stuff too.”

“Well, I’m old so I go first. Let’s talk about that nasty bit of evil you exploded the fail safe with.” No beating around the bush with John Winchester. His face was stern, kind of a grandfatherly angry, not an ‘I’m going to tear you a new one’ fury.

Dana turned her head away, gazed upward. She had hoped, with all that had transpired, that she would somehow just get a hall pass on that one. Dumb on her part though. John Winchester never let anything escape its proper attention or punishment.

“I don’t know much about psychic energy, floating stuff around, fancy mental maneuvers, and all, but I know all about evil young lady. And you threw one nasty trick, smoothly, as if it were a natural part of you.”

“Papa. Please understand. I had no idea what would blow up that fail safe. I only had a tiny whiff of time to destroy it. I had to use the biggest and best thing I had. And it worked.” She didn’t want to sound twelve; she wanted to sound adult and secure in her action and motivation. She was fairly positive she wasn’t succeeding.

“Ah my dear. That is exactly what we are going to talk about. I don’t really care that you used it. Of course you use the biggest and best in your arsenal to blow up a threat to your family. The fact that you had it in your arsenal and you used it so seamlessly. That is what I’m here to talk to you about it. Spill, everything, now.” John commanded, demeanor shifted entirely into hunter mode.

Dana hung her head. She could try subterfuge or fudging the facts around the edges. But, other than Sam who knew because he had been in her mind since she was six months old, Papa always seemed to know when she was pulling a fast one. The truth then - and the consequences - whatever they would be.

“About a year ago, I picked out six things to learn that were tainted. Two of the six were true dark. The other four were varying degrees. The switchback was one of them. And Sam helped me with that. His version of it swaps out the worst chunk for a natural flip so it isn’t anywhere near as dark as Missouri thinks. It is very useful if you are pinned down and need to get out or need to make sure no one knows you’re there. Sam and I have been using it on each other all year, kind of a game.”

Dana pulled her legs up to her chest. “The other three mixed items are all subterfuge related too. I’ll show them to you, if you want, but nothing addictive, no after effects.”

“Fine,” John said, watching her closely. “What about the last two?’

“Rotten stuff, I admit. I wanted a ‘bomb’, a big nuclear bomb that I’d use if I had to. And I had to Papa, you saw that.” A flash of guilt washed through her, even if she wasn’t in the least bit sorry.

“How’d you learn it? You said Sam didn’t teach it to you.” John was curt, unyielding.

“He’d never teach that Papa, even if he knew it, and I’m sure he doesn’t,” she rushed to defend Sam. This was her fault and she alone would pay the price.

“I found a guy online who answered my questions about it. I had tried it straight out of the book and got no where. After a few questions, I got it down fairly quick.”

John’s face tightened. She rushed to continue. “I know Papa, I know. I’m playing with hell fire here. I know. But, I’m capable and careful.”

John scoffed. “You can never be careful with pure dark. It seeps into you Dana. Tell me about the last one.”

Dana actually laughed mirthlessly. “The last one ties into what I need to tell you. I was learning a long distance connection. Knew I wouldn’t be able to stand not to be in touch with Sam so I was practicing a long stretch. Nothing pure can reach that far.”

“What?” John shouted at her, exasperation ticking up a level, or three.

“New Hampshire is far, Papa. And I agreed to go to Dartmouth but I never agreed to no contact. I just couldn’t go and not be ….” She didn’t want to cry. She wanted to be adult, prove she was competent to make the type of decision that she had made.

She sucked it up and proceeded. “Doesn’t matter for two reasons. One, I never got it to work. And second,” she stole a look at the stars, made a silent plea for strength from the heavens, held her head high and stated clearly, “I’m not going.”

“Oh yes you are,” was the reply.

“No, I’m not.” She said it, not in a defiant teenage voice, but in a clear, business-decision cadence.

A standoff. They stared at each other, headstrong v. headstrong.

Dana broke the silence. “If I had been at Dartmouth, Sam would be dead. Dad would be broken. You would be heart sick. And I’d fail every class from the pain.”

She let that sink in. She’d thought it all through, including this speech. She just had to execute it successfully.

“I never wanted to go. I know you all don’t want me to have a life tied inextricably to yours. But, tough. We’re tied. Deal. I’m not going to Dartmouth. I’ve already withdrawn. I’ve registered at KU. That’s that.” She slapped her palms together to demonstrate the finality of her act.

John didn’t move. She pondered how awful his anger would be. How awful the punishment of their disappointment would feel.

Leave it to John to surprise the living hell out of her.

“Okay then. I guess you’re staying.” And he drank some coffee and resumed star gazing.

 

Jump

 

And I know, baby, just how you feel.  
You've got to roll with the punches to get to what's real  
~Van Halen~

 

Dean felt Sam nudge him, just a little mental jolt.

Dean opened one eye to check him. Sam was on his side, staring at Dean, hair flopped in front of his eyes, smiling warmly.

“Hiya Sam.”

Dean shoved down the instinct to yawn. Frankly, two more hours of sleep would be lovely. Scratch that, maybe six or eight more hours of sleep. Can’t let Sammy know how tired he is though. Got to keep his game face on.

Last night was disrupted in the wee hours by the onset of Sam’s dream-induced panic. Sleeping pills, pain medication, meditation - nothing so far had impeded the nightly crescendo of frightful events swirling in Sam’s head. Consequently, weeks had passed since Dean had slept more than four straight hours. It had been easier than this when Dana was an infant. Pop a bottle in her mouth and push her stuffed rabbit closer and she was lulled back to sleep. Maybe he should buy Sam a stuffed rabbit.

Scooting in close, Dean put his arms around Sam’s neck, clasping his hands together at the base. They did this every morning, first thing. Dean thought of it as Sam’s daily vitamins. Dean opened his mind completely and Sam swam around, taking what he needed. After letting this go too deep and too long, Dean had ended up an incoherent blob. So, he had taken to counting slowly to 120 and cutting Sam off. Dana was watching, being careful was key.

Sam shook his head. _N-n-n-o-o Dddeeenn._

_What do you mean ‘No’?_

_Dayyyna, tttold me. Must s-s-s-top._

Indignation rose up into Dean’s chest. No doubt, Dana told Sam that this was risky, or worse. She had no right. Sam was improving daily, by leaps and bounds. Providing Sam with the energy he needed to heal was vital.

“To hell with Dana. I’m being careful. It was just that once before I knew better.”

_Too thin_ Sam got that across succinctly. Dean smiled. _Too tttired. Must s-s-s-top._ Sam sent it across the link with a jolt of finality.

Dean looked at him. “I’m not too tired or too thin and we don’t have to stop. How about I cut you off after one minute, not two? Easier on me and still good for you. Dana won’t know and, if she does, tough. We’re the adults here.”

Sam was pondering that idea when Dana sauntered into the room in her blue bathrobe, hair piled on top of her head in a giant ponytail pointing skyward.

Dean leveled his best ‘your ass is mine’ glare at her and she flinched.

“So, Sam told you that I gave him the scoop on what you’re doing.” He admired that she never skirted around a hot, potentially battle-inducing topic.

Still, he’d fix her.

“So, Ms. I Know Best, did you pass along any other information to your uncle?”

Sam looked at Dana now, giant question look on his face. To Dean, he asked, _What d-d-don’t I know?_

Again, Dean was thrilled by the clarity of Sam’s thought. To Sam, Dean said, “Good Sam, really clear,” and then, turning to Dana, he passed along the question with the sarcasm dolloped on thick, “Your uncle would like to know what he doesn’t know.”

Dana turned baby girl pink, a bit of deer in the headlights look with a touch of ‘how dare you’ thrown in. Dana tapped her foot on the ground. Dean suspected she desperately wanted to kick him in the shin and was trying to figure how to get away with it.

Again, she pleased him when she attacked it head on. She circled the bed to Sam’s side and sat down on the edge. Sam used his arms to flip his body to face her. She reached out to cup his face and she added herself to the Sam-Dean connection she had created.

_Sam. You know I’d do anything for you. Anything. I love you so much._

Sam blinked his eyes in assent and, through the now three-way link, replied _Yes s-sweetie, love you t-t-too_

Dana gasped, not knowing Sam’s significant progress in constructing and communicating rational thoughts.

_Ok, don’t be mad at me. Don’t you do that. I pulled out of Dartmouth. Can’t be that far away from y’all._

Tears welled in Sam’s eyes. He started to shake a little.

Dean rushed in to comfort him. _Don’t cry Sammy, please. I’ve made her swear that she’ll go to the fanciest medical school that will have her. We’ll have to all go and live with her, of course, since she is adamant about never leaving us. Please don’t cry._

Despite the plea, tears dripped down Sam’s cheeks.

Dana was crushed, started to shake a bit herself.

_N-n-n_ Sam tried to get something out, wasn’t succeeding, looked pained by his failure. Dean held his hand and squeezed in support. _N-n-not sad. Happy._

“It’s really okay Sam? Really?” Dana practically levitated off the bed.

Sam nodded.

“Oh thank god. Thank god.” She bent and kissed him smack dab on the tip of his nose. “I am going to live in the dorm, Dad insisted. I secured a room yesterday. I’ll be twenty minutes away, tops.”

They sat there a couple of minutes, sharing head space and happiness that Dana would stay close. Dana extricated herself from the link and rose.

“I’m going to make coffee.” At the doorway, she turned. “I can live with the sixty second thing, by the way.”

 

Rock and Roll

 

It's been a long time since I rock and rolled,  
It's been a long time since I did the stroll.  
Ooh, let me get it back, let me get it back,  
Let me get it back, baby, where I come from.  
It's been a long time, been a long time,  
~Led Zeppelin~

 

A Week Later

_Tired of this bed._

“I know Sam. You’re getting stronger every day. Your legs are just taking longer because they’re so goddamned long. But, your words are perfect now.”

Sam shook his head. Mentally, his words were fairly solid but, try as he might, he couldn’t verbalize. He made sounds but nothing approaching formed words. He had tried to trip through his mind to figure out what was gumming up his words. He succeeded only in giving himself a full-blown migraine with all the trimmings, head and neck pain, vomiting, diarrhea, light sensitivity, lasted twenty-four hours. Not to mention the horrid subsequent lecture from Dana to leave the healing to the healing power.

Across the room, Dean pulled on sweat pants. “Do you want breakfast or a bath first?”

Sam pushed the hair out of his eyes. The hair needed cutting way back when they were at Yosemite. Now, weeks and weeks later, it was ridiculously long, well below his shoulders in back and always in his eyes.

Part of him realized that it was good to be impatient about his words and his hair and just about everything. It signified he was more himself. Still, so much was crossed up in his head he tried sometimes not to think. Doing even simple things required a level of concentration that was painful.

Sam gazed at his Dean. And was struck by a feeling that he did immediately recognize. Lust. Dean was really skinny, almost frail, his ribs sticking out of his chest. Still, he was standing in a cascade of morning light flowing threw the window and he looked boyish and beautiful.

There was one thing Sam had been thinking of trying for at least two weeks but was reluctant, fearing he might fail. Today he would try. Sam reached out to the Sam – Dean connection Dana had created forthem and snipped it.

Dean yelped and swiveled around, panic on his face. Sam held up a hand and held Dean’s eyes, inhaled deeply and stretched for it, pulled it up, blew life into it.

Dean laughed, a clear, serene bell of joy that filled the room.

Sam’s laughter joined his. Sam had succeeded in resurrecting his Sam/Dean link. The feel of it alone cleared thousands of cobwebs from Sam’s head, a dose of spring cleaning.

Dana’s connection had been fine but its texture was a tad manufactured, forced. This, them, their link was pure and organic, fueled by their bond, smoldering with energy.

 

Dana sat straight up out of a sound sleep.

It was gone; her connection created for Sam and her father had been broken.

Heart pounding, she was half way through her door when it dawned on her. Oh. No negative vibes, no one or nothing intruding. Sam was fine, more than fine.

Sam had snapped the bond and reinstituted his own.

Dana clapped her hands, was proud of him, happy for them. Throwing herself back on her bed, she pulled Aristotle towards her.

She needed to ask Sam when he’d be ready to have the Sam-Dana link back in place. She knew she was a bit too much force for him while he healed yet she wanted him back, missed him like a lost limb. Later, she’d ask later. She twitched and dozed off.

 

Dean shut their bedroom door and turned the lock, crossed the room, giant grin firmly in place. The link communicated one thing loud and clear.

“Christ Sam, you’re horny.”

Blushing crimson, Sam nodded.

Dean crawled up on the bed and straddled Sam. Grabbed at Sam’s long locks and pushed them up and off his face, kissed his lips gently.

_Taste good._

_You too babe. Gonna suck you._

_Oh god yes._

Dean licked into Sam’s mouth before lowering down, kissing and licking down Sam’s torso, stopping at his belly button while working the drawstring of the pants. Pushing them down, Dean met Sam’s very erect cock.

“Damn, you are horny,” Dean commented, partly in awe.

Sam writhed a bit. _L-l-l-ess talking._

“Gotcha babe. I gotcha.”

Sam closed his eyes and relished the moment, the sensation of Dean’s lips kissing the tip of his cock, hand massaging his balls. So fucking good, so damn alive. That welcome tingle of pleasure flowed down his spine.

He was going to last about as long as a fifteen year old boy getting his first blow job.

 

Dana rolled over. What in the world was that steamy sensation? Rubbing her eyes, she caught a touch of Sam and then, oops. Dana threw up a barrier.

Scott always said that her dads were hopeless horn dogs. This was proof in the pudding. Sam unable to even utter a word and still they were down the hall having sex.

They really were too much.

She mentally shrugged. Good sign though. Things were definitely getting back to normal, well, Winchester normal.

Dana flipped over and really hoped they didn’t interrupt her slumber again.

 

Sam groaned, loudly.

“Let me hear you Sammy. Let it out.”

_Less talking, more s-s-sucking_

Dean nodded and put his hands on Sam’s hips. Swallowed down his cock and sucked, hard. Caressed his hips and thighs and continued with the intense sucking.

Pleasure ricocheted through Sam. Internally, a barrier was cracking, creating the effect of wind chimes echoing through his mind. Sam closed his eyes and focused both on the physical pleasure and the mesmerizing sound of soft, rhythmic clanging.

Sam moaned when Dean swallowed him to the root. Sam reached for Dean’s head, telling him that he was about to come when he was slammed to his pillow by a million tiny shards flying in front of his eyes.

The barrier in his mind that was cracking shattered. The teeny remains floated up and away in a silky steam. Sam was vaguely aware that he was screaming, his come still streaming out of him. His belly was very wet and warm and Dean was wiping quite a bit of come off his mouth.

“Holy shit, did you hear that?”

Dean didn’t respond at first then weakly asked, “Did you say that or think that Sam?”

Sam pried open his eyes and focused on Dean, saw the massive wet spot on his sweats. Dean obviously had gotten off as well.

Sam weakly smiled, “I think I said it.” He paused, “Yep, definitely said it, out loud.”

Dean whooped. “The power of the blow job. Damn I’m good. I can restore speech with the power of my wicked sucking skills. You think they’d write this up in the Journal of Medicine?”

Sam tossed back his head and erupted with a giant belly laugh.

Down the hall, the racket from her Dads’ room forced Dana to give up all pretense of getting any more sleep. She mumbled to Aristotle, “Will you go down there and bite them for me?”

 

Puppy Love

Is the answer up above  
How can I, how can I tell them  
This is not a puppy love

 

Sam slowly crossed the living room with his walker, Dean behind him adding a bit of stabilization and bearing some of his weight.

Sam had regained his speech a couple of weeks ago although neither Sam nor Dean would discuss exactly how that had transpired. A few days later, Sam regained some slight motion in his legs. His movement was awkward and shaky but improving, little by little, each day.

By the time Sam reached the sofa, he sank into it gratefully. Dean plopped down next to him, pulled Sam into him.

_You did good Sam._

_Tired though._

Dean rubbed at the tightness in Sam’s thighs, reached out and opened his mind to pass along a dose of energy. Sam sighed and let Dean’s warmth course through him, soothe him. He shouldn’t accept this so readily or so often, but the balance and respite it delivered was tough to pass up.

Dana bounded into the room, huge stack of books in her arms.

“Well Uncle Sammy, I spent your hard earned dollars on text books today.” She unceremoniously tossed them into the recliner. “And paid the tuition and dorm too. I love tossing around that AmEx card of yours.”

Sam gazed at Dana, a familiar swell of love and adoration rose in his chest. He wasn’t entirely sure what an AmEx card was or if he could afford the massive amount of cash she spent today, but, Dean seemed non-plussed by her babbling so Sam hoped he didn’t have anything to worry about it.

She yanked the pack off her back and pulled out three t-shirts. Tossed one at Sam and one at Dean, folded the last one back up and put it away, undoubtedly to give to John later. “You’re KU parents now, wear ‘em with pride. Oh, and I saw the coach on campus. Definitely wants me to run track, practically pleaded actually. Do you think I should?”

Whatever response she would have received was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Are you expecting Scott?” Dean asked.

“Nope,” Dana replied and got up to answer the door.

“Can I help you?” Dana addressed the unseen visitor.

From outside the door, a woman asked, “Is your father home?”

Dean got up and crossed the room. Standing in the doorway was a short Latin woman with a slightly tense look on her face.

“Carlotta. Hi.” Dean looked down and enthused, “Catie, my girl.” Dean held out his arms and seventy pounds of chocolate lab leaped up, paws on his chest.

Sam smiled at the happy Catie – Dean reunion scene. Catie – now he remembered her perfectly. She was Aristotle’s daughter from her one and only litter. Catie and Dean had bonded from the day she was born, six years ago. Catie went to Carlotta after she was weaned but Dean had stayed in touch with the dog he referred to as “cleverest dog on the planet”. Sam swore Aristotle always huffed in displeasure whenever Dean said it.

“Come in Carlotta. What’s wrong? Catie seems fine.” Catie was more than fine. She was joyful, reveling at the sight of her Dean.

From the sofa, Sam whistled and ten seconds later Aristotle came flying out of the kitchen and into the room. Catie saw Ari and plopped down obediently for inspection.

Carlotta walked into the living room, stopping when she saw Sam. “Sam? Are you okay?”

Dana rushed to reply. “Car accident - but he’s getting better every day.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. This is a bad time for you.”

Typically as bouncy as the dogs she raised, Carlotta was subdued, off balance.

Done with their ritual greeting, Ari curled around Sam’s feet and Catie around Dean’s, noses touching.

“See, I just don’t know what to do. Catie had a litter three years ago, right?”

Dean and Dana nodded. Sam, on the other hand, didn’t remember but figured he was supposed to.

“My daughter, Angela, took the only female, Tallie. Tallie is a good dog, pretty energetic, but a good girl.” Carlotta paused. “Angela bred Tallie and there were five puppies. Four of them were angels. We placed them right away. And then there’s him.”

Carlotta looked like she was going to cry.

“He’s gorgeous, chocolate like Catie, but so bad. Like the devil’s in him. He chewed every piece of Angela’s furniture, all of her carpet. He’s bit everyone who came to look at him. Isn’t housebroken. Cries all night. No one will take him.”

The Winchesters all looked at her. Waiting to see how they fit into the picture. It was Dana who caught on first. “You want us to take him?”

Carlotta sighed, seemed relieved. “I woke up this morning and thought of you. Don’t know why but somehow I just thought…,” her words trailed off.

Dean stroked Catie’s belly, evoking a whimper of pure pleasure. “So, where’s this puppy terror?”

Carlotta jumped up. “Locked in a crate in the car. Will you look at him?”

Based on the expression on Dean’s face, Sam answered, “Bring him in.”

Dean didn’t need anything else to care for right now. Sam logically realized that. But, perhaps due to their current hyper-connectivity, Sam sensed a longing on Dean’s part. A piece of Dean had grieved since they gave Catie away and now Dean wanted the puppy. Of that, Sam was quite certain.

Carlotta scurried out of the room. They watched out of the front bay window as she opened the hatch to her car and reached into the crate. The puppy was little, only ten or twelve weeks old. He was squirming in Carlotta’s arms, trying to bite her hand, whining up a storm. She walked back up the path and through the front door. As she crossed the threshold, the puppy gave an almighty twist and escaped her clutch. He skittered across the floor, heading right for Dean. Took a wondrous leap for something so tiny and landed square in Dean’s lap, licked his face, before curling up in a contented ball.

“I’ll be damned,” Carlotta squeaked.

“I guess he stays,” Sam said, reaching over to stroke the little guy. “Ok with you Ari?” In reply, Aristotle just shifted a bit at Sam’s feet and sniffed. Sam interpreted it as Aristotlese for ‘You’re mine. The puppy can have him’.

Sam touched Dean’s shoulder and noticed his eyes were misty. Maybe it was just the light though.

“What do you call him?” Dana inquired.

“The Beast.” Carlotta laughed. “I swear to you, he has never sat still before unless he’s asleep.”

“What do we owe you for him?” Dean asked, rubbing the pup’s brown belly, much to its delight.

Carlotta waved her hands. “I’m willing to pay you to take him. How about this? I’ll go and buy you all the puppy essentials.”

Dean shook his head ‘No’ and lifted the pup up to his shoulder like a baby. The pup positioned itself to nap there. “I’ll get that stuff for him. No worries.”

“Rembrandt.” Dana said. “We should call him Rembrandt.”

“What kind of name is Rembrandt for an alpha male dog?” Dean asked her, tone distinctly displeased.

“You can call him Remmy, if you must,” she replied.

“Remmy as in Remington, like the gun?” Dean tossed at her.

Dana smirked, loving the inside joke. “No, Dad. Remmy as in Rembrandt, the painter.”

Sam smiled.

Dean and Dana bantering, music to his ears. That he remembered well.

Sam closed his eyes to nap, needed to dampen the cacophony in his head.

Things weren’t okay with him; he knew that. The nightmares alone were troubling and his lack of clarity made him feel senile. He was a little better every day though. The racket in his head was settling down; the indignity of being so violated was fading, bit by bit.

And now a puppy had been added to the Winchester clan. Remmy most definitely had found both the dad he wanted and the place he wanted to live. Dean was equally smitten with Remmy. Excitement was bouncing out of him and flooding the room. Sam absorbed as much of it as possible, Dean’s delight warmed him to the core.

Sam nodded off accompanied by little puppy snores from Remmy and Dean’s hand gently massaging his neck, assisting him to drift into a restful slumber.


	3. Arc Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam struggles to recover from the vicious attack that nearly killed him, but for all of his progress, things still aren't right. When Missouri suggests a plan of action that will send Sam away, Dean disagrees vehemently. But Sam knows he needs to do something, or he will never fully recover.

“Go to work.” Sam rubbed a hand down a numb leg and watched Dean vacillate. 

“Dad can handle it a few more days.” Dean said, putting the keys down.

“I can’t.” Aristotle shifted on the couch next to him to put her head in his lap. “I love you, but you need to go, at least for a few hours.”

Dean chewed on his lip and scooped up the puppy. “What about Remmy? He needs me, don’t you little guy?”

Sam sighed and rested his head on the back of the couch. “Seriously, Dean. Missouri’s coming over to work with me.” 

Physically he improved every day, but mentally he seemed to have hit a plateau. Gaping holes remained in his memory and sometimes words were not his friend.

Dean made a face. “That mean you’ll be shutting this down?” touching his head to signify their connection.

Sam reached out and caressed him through the link. _Just for a little while_.

Dean hadn’t left the house in weeks, other than to walk the puppy and Aristotle. 

Dean came to stand in front of Sam, puppy tucked under one arm. _Let me give you a dose before I go_.

Sam shook his head. “Already did, an hour ago. I don’t need it.” The daily energy Dean fed him helped, but Sam wondered if it wasn’t slowly draining Dean…if it weren’t becoming like a drug…okay when it was needed, but addictive and hard to break the habit.

Dean’s thumb brushed over Sam’s cheek and his lips pressed into his forehead. “I’ll be home by noon. I’m taking Remmy with me.”

Sam snorted. “John’s gonna love that.”

“Dad.”

Sam frowned. “What?”

“You said John, not Dad.”

Sam rubbed his head, trying to figure out what Dean was getting at. “When did I start calling him Dad?”

“A few years ago.” Dean’s face reverted to concerned. “You were calling him Dad yesterday, Sam. I’m staying.”

“Go. I’ll be fine. It’s just…a hole.”

“A new hole.” Dean countered, his face pinched and tight.

There was a knock on the door and Dean opened it, letting Missouri in. “That’s an awfully sour face so early in the day.” She cooed at Remmy and moved into the living room smiling at Sam. “How you feeling today?”

“He called Dad ‘John’.” Dean said, clearly fretting when he should be leaving.

“You let me handle that.” Missouri said, setting her purse on the coffee table. 

Dean stood near the door with the squirming puppy under his arm and watched as Missouri pulled things out of her over-sized purse. Finally, she looked up. “I thought Sam said you were going to work so we could work without your hovering self getting in the way.”

“Fine. I’m going. But I’ll be home at noon.”

“Go on then, me and Sam got stuff to do.”

Dean snatched his keys and headed out.

Sam sighed, reaching after him with a tender caress, before he snipped the connection. Almost instantly the ache of its absence hit him, the pain of not having Dean _right there_ making him want to reach for him again. He adjusted slowly to not having that crutch and when he opened his eyes, Missouri was watching him closely.

“Before we get started, Sam, I want to talk to you about something.”

“You sound serious.”

She nodded and stopped fussing with her candles, settling onto the couch and taking his hand. “I’m concerned about my ability to get you through this. There’s so much that needs doing in your head, and I’m worried that I don’t have the skill to do what needs doing.”

“You’re the best shot I’ve got Missouri. You’re…” He struggled to find the words, then gave up. “The best I know.”

She smiled gently. “I know. But I know some people. I’ve referred cases to them before. None near as challenging as you, but I think they can help.”

Sam wasn’t sure what to think about it. As far as he knew only Dana and Dean and Missouri had ever been in his head. “I…don’t know.”

She nodded. “I want you to think about it, okay Sam? And while you’re at it, I need you to think about Dean.”

“I rely on him too much.” Sam said softly, dropping his eyes. “I don’t know how not to Missouri.”

She patted his knee and stood. “You think on it later. Let’s get us into that head of yours.”

 

John looked up from the engine he was working on when he saw the light go on in Dean’s office. He hadn’t expected Dean to show up. He heard barking and rolled his eyes, dropping his rag and heading in to the office.

Dean was sitting in his chair, Remmy in his lap, staring at the wall.

“What’s wrong?”

Dean looked up, shaking his head. “Don’t want to be here.”

John snorted. “Then why are you?”

“Got kicked out. Missouri’s with Sam.”

John squinted at the blank expression, it was almost like it was when Sam was unconscious and Dean was exhausted. “What else?”

Dean wrinkled his nose and turned his chair. “I’m worried. He’s not getting better.”

“Dana said he managed a few steps without the walker.”

Dean shook his head. “Yeah, physically he’s better. It’s his head I’m worried about. He’s forgetting stuff.”

“Dana said it would take a while.”

“New stuff. I told him I was bringing Remmy with me and he said, ‘John’s going to love that’.”

John felt something inside him pinch. “He called me John?”

Dean nodded, scratching his head. “He didn’t remember ever calling you Dad.”

“Why are you here?”

Dean sighed and shook his head. “He didn’t want me there while they…do whatever it is they’re doing.”

Dean looked miserable. 

“Why don’t you go home, I’ll be fine here without you.” 

Remmy put his paws on Dean’s chest and licked his face. “I told him I’d be home at noon.” 

John looked at the clock. “It’s eleven thirty. Let me wash up, and we’ll go together. We can bring him lunch. He’s always hungry when he’s done with that psychic stuff.”

Dean nodded absently and John went to wash his hands and pull off his coveralls. As hard as this had to be on Sam, it was eating Dean alive. And truthfully, the idea of Sam forgetting how much they’d bonded, even just the simple matter of calling him “Dad” made John sick inside. 

Dean tossed him the keys and they headed out. He tried not to think about the last time he’d driven the Impala back to Dean’s house like this. It had been Aristotle in Dean’s lap, not the puppy, and they’d gotten home to devastation unlike anything he’d ever seen.

They’d nearly lost Sam…and John held no delusions. Without Sam, Dean wouldn’t have ever recovered. 

He pulled them through a drive through, bought a mess of burgers and headed for the house. Dean was quiet beside him. Remmy was whining and licking Deans face most of the way.

Missouri was gathering her things as they came in the door. Sam was on the couch, half dozing. He opened his eyes, looking surprised. “Brought lunch.” John said, holding up the bags.

Dean put the puppy down and went to sit beside Sam. “I’m glad you’re home.” Sam said softly.

“You’re the one who told me to go.” Dean said, a slight tease in his tone. 

Sam kissed him, then looked up at Missouri. 

“You want to do this now?”

Sam nodded. John put the bags on the coffee table and looked to Missouri, his expression clearly telling her to speak up. She nodded and moved closer. “Sam and I have been talking. I think I’m about at my limit for helping him. He needs someone who knows about this kind of trauma, someone who does this kind of work.”

“I take it you know someone?” John asked. 

She nodded. “Yes, I do. Actually, they run a retreat up north.”

John waited for Dean to respond, but he only seemed interested in holding Sam’s hand. It took a second to realize he was probably communicating with Sam through their link. “What sort of retreat?” 

“It’s mostly a Buddhist retreat, they have a temple there…but they have a space reserved for work like this. It would be two adepts working with Sam twenty four hours a day, isolated from all other influences.”

“What about safety?” 

“Safer than here. Trust me, nothing ugly is getting within a mile of the place.”

Dean made an odd sort of noise and cocked his head at Sam. “What gives?”

Sam sighed. “I just need some time alone in here after the work we did.” Sam said softly. 

Dean looked hurt. “Let me help you.”

“You need to stop letting him be so dependent on you.” Missouri said brusquely. “Or he won’t ever get better.”

“Dean, have you listened to anything Missouri said?” Sam asked.

“Something about a retreat.” Dean looked up at her. “When, where?”

“I’ve already called and they’re preparing for Sam now. It will take about a day and a half drive.”

Dean nodded. “We can be ready to leave tomorrow.”

“No.” Missouri said adamantly. 

Sam seemed to pull into himself further as Missouri shook her head. “Not you. Sam.”

“Sam can barely walk.” Dean said, standing up. There was anger in his eyes, sharp and raw. He rounded on Missouri, but she didn’t back down.

“I’ll drive him.” Missouri said. “You’ll stay here. Sam needs to do this without the crutches.”

“No. No fucking way.” Dean snapped. He paced to the window and back. 

“Dean, Missouri’s ri—“

“No. No way in hell, Sam. Don’t tell me she’s right.” Dean shook his head. “No way in hell am I letting him go off to some touch-feely whackos I’ve never met without me.”

“Dean—“

“NO!” Dean moved away, hands on his hips. 

“Dean Winchester, stop yelling and listen to what I’m telling you.” Missouri said, following him. “You need the break just as much as he needs to do this. Look at you.”

“I don’t need a break.” Dean said. “I need Sam with me. I need Sam where I can protect him.”

“Because you did that so well the first time?” Missouri said, her voice harsh. “You think that if that thing comes back after him, you’ll be able to stop it?”

Dean turned, his face a mask of fury. “How dare you?”

“Look at what it did to Sam. He’s got defenses mentally that you can’t even begin to pretend to, and look what it did to him? It’d tear through you and leave you a pile of nothing while it took what it wanted from Sam.”

The air was crackling with Dean’s anger, even John could feel it. John watched Sam’s eyes darting from Dean to Missouri. Sam pulled himself up slowly from the couch, leaning heavily on his walker. Dean came toward him instantly, but Sam held up a hand. 

“Dean, I need to do this.”

“No. Not without me.”

They were quiet, staring at one another. John got the impression Sam was trying to reason with him mentally. Dean shook his head, glared at Missouri. “No. He goes, I go.”

Dean grabbed at the bags of food and stormed into the kitchen, slamming doors. Sam seemed to deflate a little, but he slowly made the few steps to Missouri and touched her hand. “I’ll talk to him.” 

Missouri nodded, her face sad. She kissed Sam’s cheek. “I’ll be by in the morning.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

As the door closed, Sam sighed and looked at the couch. “I’m so tired of being so fucking tired. And helpless.”

“You’re not helpless.” John said, though he sounded as helpless as Sam felt.

Sam took a slow step toward the couch, but then leaned forward. “Could you…get me back to the couch?”

John nodded and came to stand behind him, pulling Sam’s body up against his own. They worked their way slowly to the couch and John lowered him down before moving the walker to the side.

“Thank you John, for everything.”

John inhaled sharply at the sound of his name and Sam dropped his head. “I’m sorry.” Sam said softly. “Dean told me…I just…”

John shook off the disappointment and moved to sit beside his son. “Don’t worry about it. It will all come back Sam. Let’s just get you better.” 

“So, you think this retreat thing will work?” John asked when the silence had grown long and Dean hadn’t come back. 

“She showed me stuff.” Sam said, then shook his head. “Sorry…words are…weird today. The place is beautiful.” He looked up at John, his eyes filled with worry. “I don’t want to go…but I know I have to.” He sighed and looked at the kitchen door. “I feel stuff slipping away…and I’m afraid I’ll lose it all.” His hand rubbed over his face. “What if I wake up one morning and can’t remember any of it…our life together? What if one day you’re all strangers to me?”

A single tear fell and Sam sniffed and shook his head. “I don’t want to lose anymore.”

 

Dana stopped on the sidewalk, her eyes sweeping the front of the house, while she scanned it with other senses. Her father’s anger bled out through the windows. Sam was asleep on the couch. 

Her father was in the garage. She changed her path and let herself in the side door to the garage. Dean was fighting with the weed whacker. Before she could speak up, he roared, bringing the whole thing down on his work bench, then using it to send stuff flying. He screamed, bashing the weed whacker against tools and clutter and whatever he could reach.

Dana threw up a blanket between them and the house, not wanting his temper tantrum to upset Sam. He turned suddenly, probably feeling his fury bounce back at him.

His face was contorted, anger unlike anything she’d ever seen from him. She backed off a step while he panted and threw the weed whacker to the ground. “It’s broken,” he said after a while.

She nodded. “I’ll say.”

He scratched at the back of his head and turned away. His anger reverberated around the garage. It wasn’t backing off. He wasn’t calming down. If anything he was just getting revved up.

“Dad…did something happen?” She took an experimental step forward, reaching out to check on Sam, but he seemed to still be asleep. 

Dean picked up a box of engine parts that had managed to survive the weed whacker, staring into it for a while. Dana stepped even closer. “Is it about Sam?”

He whirled, his eyes shooting green fire that she would have felt without any psychic ability, and she ducked as the box of parts went flying, missing her by inches. “Okay…I’ll take that as a yes.”

She reached for him, but he shook his head, slamming out the door into the back yard. She followed, nearly plowing him over where he’d stopped dead in his tracks, staring.

No one had touched the yard since the day they found Sam laying there. The grass that remained was overgrown. The holes no longer smoldered, but the air still smelled vaguely of ozone and sulfur.

The sound of her father’s scream shook her, shook the trees and psychically rippled out for several miles. Even the dampening blanket didn’t stop it. Sam was awake. 

Dean doubled over, beating his fists against his legs as he screamed, pouring out his fury and pain. He was going to start hurting himself soon, and he was already pressing against Dana’s nerves. She wrapped her arms around him and reached inside, not really connecting with him, just looking for the tiny little button that would—there! He went limp in her arms, unconscious. 

 

“Dana?” Sam sat up, looking around. He could feel her between him and Dean. He felt Dean go quiet, then the back door opened and Dana came in, closed off and concentrating. She got almost to the stairs before he saw why. Dean floated a foot or so off the ground, out. 

She settled him to the floor at the base of the stairs and exhaled slowly. “What set him off like that?” she asked, her eyes running over Sam as if making sure he was okay.

“He’s angry.”

“No shit.” Dana shook her head and stepped over her father, joining Sam on the couch. “He tore the garage up. He was trying to blow the backyard into the Sampson’s house with just his voice. I’d say angry is a mild description.”

Sam sighed and reached for her hand, reaching for her mentally. _I need to go away for a while, and he doesn’t want me to go._

He felt her stiffen, felt fear race across her thoughts before she brought it under control. _Go where?_

Sam showed her what Missouri had shown him. “They can help.” He felt her poking around a little and let her. He knew she’d understand. She could see the damage that was still there, could see beyond the things that seemed to blind Dean.

“He can’t go with you.” Dana said a little breathlessly, understanding dawning on her.

Sam nodded dropping his eyes. “He…got so mad. But Missouri’s right, Dana. I rely on him too much. And look what it’s doing to him. He doesn’t sleep. He barely eats…and he thinks he’s hiding it, but he hurts. His whole body aches.” He sighed and looked over her shoulder to Dean on the floor. “I’m doing that to him, and so help me, I can’t stop taking when he offers it. I…want him…”

She put a hand on his and wrapped her mind around his in a hug. “He’ll understand Sam. Not now…maybe not for a while. But he will.”

“I love him so much. I can’t stand it if he hates me.”

Dana smiled and shook her head. “He doesn’t hate you, Sam. Could never hate you. You know that.”

Sam nodded. “You should probably get him upstairs and more comfortable. Might want to back it up with a sedative so he’ll sleep for a while.”

“I’ll get him settled in and then I’ll start dinner. You need anything?”

Sam shook his head. “I think I’ll doze some more. The work with Missouri wore me out.”

 

Dana got her father settled into bed and headed into her own room to change. She pulled out her phone and called Missouri. “Sam told me what you have planned,” she said without any preamble.

“I think it’s best.” Missouri said. She sounded tired.

“What do you need?”

“He’ll need some basics, like any trip. And I’ll need a few personal things…stuff that’s uniquely Sam.”

“I can do that.” She chewed on her lip. “My father can’t come. What about me?”

Missouri sighed. “Darling, you’ll be starting school before Sam’s even close to ready to come home.”

“This is going to take that long?” No wonder her father was furious. 

“Your uncle Sam needs time to heal and space to do it in. He can’t be worried about you or your father while he deals with that kind of pain.”

“What about protection?”

“He’ll be safe, Dana. I give you my word.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning. I’ll be there by nine.”

That didn’t give her much time. “I’ll be here to help you get him in the car.”

She hung up and dialed her Papa. “Has your father calmed down yet?” he asked in way of hello.

“So I take it you know what’s going on?” She pulled her hair out of its pony tail and sighed. “He’s really angry, Papa. I’ve never seen him like that.” She could hear him sigh. “Sam thinks he has to do this.” Dana said.

“I know. We talked about it. You need me to come over?”

She didn’t like to admit it, but she didn’t think she could handle both of them alone. “I’ll put the lasagna in the oven.”

“I’ll close up the garage and be over when I’m done.”

She’d taken a good look inside Sam’s head, and she couldn’t say she was happy with what she saw. There was evidence of what he and Missouri had done earlier in the day. But other areas, where there had been healing and progress, were messy with ragged edges and holes…walls that she had helped him build were sagging and it was almost as if he didn’t notice.

Neither she nor Missouri were affecting any long term repair. They were missing something. She raked a brush through her hair and headed downstairs to start dinner and check on Sam. Remmy was whining at her father’s door as she reached it, scratching on it and whining.

“He needs to sleep. Go lay with Sam.” Below her, Aristotle raised her head and put it possessively on Sam’s legs. Dana scooped Remmy up and he immediately started squirming, his little butt pushing out of her arms until she was forced to let him down. He went right back to scratching and whining. She opened the door and he raced like a little brown blur to the bed, jumping and clawing until he’d managed to get on top. Then he circled three times before laying in a tight little ball at her father’s side.

She watched her father sleep, looked at him. His face was pale. He was thin. Dark circles smudged under his eyes. She scanned over him, feeling for something more serious. Sam was right, he was worn…close to breaking, maybe even more than the day he’d let Sam nearly suck him dry.

He was tense, even in sleep. Struggling. He was fighting the drugs, she realized belatedly. Her touch had worn off and he was fighting his way up. She moved to sit on the bed, reaching out a little more firmly. Their connection was never what hers was with Sam, but she got it established and put herself in his head, pushing him back toward sleep firmly.

_Sam. Need to get to Sam._ He pushed against her.

_Sam is fine. You need to rest._

She got a blast of his anger again and pulled back. _And if you don’t stop that, I won’t let you near him. He can’t handle that._

The drug was pulling on him and it wouldn’t take much to pull him back under. _He’s leaving in the morning, do you want him to go without getting to say goodbye?_

Dean ripped himself up from under the influence of the drug, sitting up and reaching physically for her. She grabbed him to keep him from falling out of the bed. “Dad, stop.”

“Let meyup.” His words slurred and his eyes didn’t focus. 

“I **will** put you down again.”

He tried to look at her, swayed a little and held on to her. “Don’t want him to go.”

She nodded, brushed against him mentally. “I know Dad. I know. But I think it’s best.”

She felt the anger swelling again and fingered the trigger that would knock him back out. _Need you to calm down._

He sagged a little. She helped him lay back down. “I’m going to make dinner. Papa’s coming. We’ll eat and have a nice evening together. You’ll keep this under wraps. Sam’s hurting enough, he doesn’t need you ripping new holes in his head with this.”

Dean looked shocked at the thought. He shook his head. “Don’t hurt Sam.”

“He’s hurting, Dad. This isn’t helping. Now, do I need to put you down, or are you going to sleep?”

Remmy shifted so that he was in the circle of Dean’s arm, his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Sleep.” Dean said, his eyes closing.

“Good. I’ll come get you when dinner’s ready.” She kissed his forehead and left him to sleep, pausing at the top of the stairs and throwing out a dampening blanket to keep her boys separated while they worked out what was going on.

Dana heard the front door and poked her head out of the kitchen, beckoning her Papa as quietly as she could. He paused at the couch, leaning over to check Sam before joining her. He kissed her forehead and she wanted to lean into him, but didn’t. 

“Dinner should be ready soon.”

“Where’s your father?”

Dana huffed and turned to the oven. “Sleeping.”

“Dana.”

She rolled her eyes. “I…sort of…put him down. He was going to explode. Then I drugged him to keep him down.” She looked up at him. “He scared me Papa. He’s never scared me before.”

“You want me to go get him?”

She nodded. “Yes, but not yet. I need to talk to you.”

John crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “Go on then.”

The last two hours had seen her doing things she didn’t like, but this was her family and she was going to take care of them. All of them.

“Sam explained, sort of. What he could. I read some of what Missouri gave him, but even that is starting to break down all ready. So I talked to her, then I did a deep reading on Sam.” She dared a look at him. So far he didn’t seem angry. “I did some research on the place, and the people. Actually called and talked to one of them.”

“And?” John prodded when she paused.

“I think Sam’s right. But I think Dad’s kind of right too. I don’t like the idea of Sam so far away without one of us there.”

“Missouri said he had to go alone.” John countered.

“There’s a campground, it’s rough, but doable. Not up close to where Sam will be, but close enough. A good hunter could keep an eye on him and not get in the way.”

John shook his head. “Dean’s in no condition—“

She raised her hand. “I agree. He needs about three weeks of sleep and food and more sleep before he’d even come close…and Sam’s already told me he can’t stop on his own.”

John frowned at her. “Can’t stop what?”

“Dad gives him…energy…little shots of energy. He’s only supposed to do it for a minute and only first thing in the morning, but he does it off and on all day. Whenever Sam looks like he needs it…and Sam said he can’t help but take it, because he needs it and he wants it and it’s kind of like an addiction.”

“So what is it you’re suggesting?” John asked.

“You and me. We can take turns. I can mask my presence so he won’t even know I’m there. Your psychic signature is already pretty light.”

“And what does Missouri think of this plan?”

She shrugged. “Didn’t plan on telling her.”

She watched him process the information. She felt Sam waking up. “We can talk about it later. For now, let’s get dinner on the table. Get Dad up, and remind him to play nice. I’ll help Sam.”

 

John opened the door to Dean’s room. Dean opened his eyes as if he’d just been waiting for someone to show up. Remmy licked at his face, then burrowed under the pillow. 

“You look like shit.” John said.

“Dana dropped me.” Dean said, sitting up. “Left me with a fucking headache.”

“From what I hear you needed it.”

“She send you up here to lecture me?”

“No, she sent me up to get you for dinner…if you think you can handle that without blowing up.”

“It isn’t right. Sending him off alone.” Dean sat up, turning to put his feet on the floor. 

“It’s what Sam wants. Maybe what Sam needs.” John countered, crossing to support Dean as he stood up.

Dean shook his head. “He needs me Dad.”

“I know he does Dean. Maybe he needs you just a little too much.”

Dean pulled his arm away. “What is that supposed to mean?”

John sighed and shook his head. “Have you seen yourself lately? I mean really looked at yourself?”

“I’m fine.” Dean said. He wavered a little on his feet, then sat down again. “I’m fine.”

John snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Fuck you.”

“Are you going to come down and eat?”

Dean stared at the carpet, fuming. John watched him slowly pull it all inside, watched him take a deep breath and pull a calm expression over his face. “Fine.” He stood again, and let John support him down the stairs. By the time they got to the bottom, Dana had dinner on the table and Sam was in his seat. 

Dean slipped quietly into his, squeezing Sam’s hand lightly. Sam seemed to relax, sighing softly. Dean’s face relaxed as well. Dana slipped into her chair and John took his customary place. “It looks good Dana.” 

It was a quiet dinner, with Dean and Sam largely engaged in private and silent communion, Dana watching them and fretting and John trying to decide what to do. 

“Papa, I promised Missouri I would get Sam packed up. Could you bring his suitcase in from the garage for me?” Dana asked softly as she rose to clear the table.

Dean stiffened, and Sam reached for him, pulling him in close and whispering to him. John nodded and stood. It was going to be a long night in the Winchester household.

 

_Don’t be mad at me._ Sam clung to Dean, his hand holding Dean’s shirt, his mind holding to Dean’s.

_Not at you._ Dean insisted. 

Dean was pouring energy into him again, even though he didn’t ask, didn’t really want it. Dean was insistent about it. Sam let himself float on the currents of it, for a minute, less. It always made him warm, made him feel strong. He took a deep breath and pulled back. 

Dean reached for him again, but Sam shook his head, put up a barrier inside. _No, Dean. It has to stop._

Dean sat back physically, his eyes opening and seeking out Sam’s. “Why? It makes you feel better, it makes me happy. Why stop?”

“Because it’s hurting you.” Sam said. He kissed Dean’s lips lightly. “I want to talk…without you getting angry.”

Dean pressed his lips together, then nodded. “Let’s get you comfortable first. I’ll take you upstairs.” 

 

Sam sighed as he settled on to the bed after Dean had helped him relieve himself and wash up and fight his way out of his clothes. His body was achy but not bad like it had been before. He worked at gathering his thoughts, watching Dean putz around the room, putting off the conversation neither one of them really wanted to have. 

“Dean, come lay down.” Sam said finally, his voice sounding strained and tired. Dean drew in a deep breath and dropped his jeans before crossing to the bed and sliding in.

Sam let Dean pull him in, wrap his arm around Sam and Sam settled his head on his brother’s shoulder. “You know I don’t want to leave.” Sam said softly, tentatively.

“Then don’t.” Dean said…as if it was just that simple.

Sam nuzzled into his neck, kissing lightly along a path that led to his chest, then lifted his head. “I don’t want to, Dean…but I have to.” Dean closed his eyes and Sam could feel the anger, the fear welling up inside him. He opened their link and let his own fear flood his mind. “I’m scared Dean.”

Dean opened his eyes and looked at him. Sam held onto the fear. “I’ve been hiding it from you, but I’m afraid.” 

“You’re doing so well, Sammy. You get better every day.” Dean said, his hand smoothing down Sam’s back.

“No, Dean. I don’t.” Sam pulled himself up until he was sitting. “You only see the stuff that is getting better. Every morning I wake up and something new is missing. Today I forgot about John-Dad. I've lost years of my life with him.” Sam grabbed Dean’s hand, he needed Dean to understand. He opened the link full bore. “What if….what if tomorrow it’s Dana? What if it’s you? I could wake up and be _him_ one day Dean. I could forget all about you…about who I am because of you. What if my body heals, but I don’t know you anymore?” Tears squeezed out of his eyes. “I can’t let that happen. I can’t go back to that.”

Dean sat up and pulled Sam into a hug. “You won’t Sam. I’m here, I’ll remind you.”

Sam shook his head. “You can’t promise that Dean. Everyday you give me more and more of yourself…soon you won’t have anything left. If you have nothing left of you…and I’m not me anymore…what becomes of us?”

He shivered, holding to Dean physically as Dean held to him mentally. _Don’t leave me Sam._

Sam swallowed a sob. _If I don’t, I might never be me again._

Dean’s kiss was urgent, desperate. _Can’t live without you._

Sam laid back, drawing Dean with him, pulling him inside and holding him. _Need you to see._ he said. It wasn’t the chaos it had been, but there were still large parts of himself that weren’t back to normal. Mentally, he pointed to a black spot. _It wasn’t there before._

Dean moved closer, reaching into the inky dark. He shuddered. _This is us…when Dana was small._

Sam nodded, pulling Dean back to him. _This is me changing, Dean…this is me becoming…who I am. It’s fading. I’m fading._

Dean shook his head. 

_If I don’t go…I won’t be me…I won’t be the Sam that you love._ He pushed them up and out. Dean was laying on top of him, kissing him. “Love me.” Sam whispered. There were tears on his face, and they weren’t all his. “Please, Dean…I need you…need you to love me, hold me…”

He moved his legs, felt Dean settle between them. “Please Dean…want you inside me one more time…so I don’t forget…don’t want to forget…” 

Dean moved slowly, kissing his way over Sam’s chest, his tears leaving a trail of moisture. _Sammy…_

“Please Dean.”

Dean’s skin was warm was it slid over Sam’s, his fingers gentle as he eased the way. He never lifted his head from his solemn work of worshipping Sam’s chest, even as he moved inside him. _It hurts so much. Feels like I’m losing you._

“I know it hurts. Hurts me too. Not losing me though. Never lose me.” Sam rubbed a hand down Dean’s arched back as he pushed inside. “More Dean…I want all of you.”

_Love you like crazy._

“Dean…” Sam gasped as Dean moved inside him, as his lips burned over his nipple and up to his neck and moved in a path over scar tissue and burn marks. This was something he knew, something Sam remembered…this touch, this love…the way Dean marked him, touched the parts of him no one ever touched. Sometimes Sam could come just from that touch alone…but now, as Dean’s cock filled him Sam wanted more…wanted everything. 

He reached inside him for a memory…for a night a long time before…it flooded him…flooded them. Dean gasped with the intensity…as it pulled his memory out and together they settled into that moment…that first time…when Sam had begged Dean to come inside him…and Dean had asked him to stay…and then Dean was coming, Sam gasping and his cock twitching as he did too. 

They lay silently a while with Dean’s softening cock still inside him, with Dean’s head on Sam’s chest. Dean wouldn’t stop him from leaving, Sam knew that…but he wanted Sam to stay…he knew that too. Only this time, he didn’t say the word…just held Sam like he would be gone forever if he let go.

 

“Sam, you up?” Dana called from the hallway.

“Give me a minute, Dana.” Sam responded, struggling with his shoes. Dean came out of the bathroom and pulled the door open.

“Missouri called, she’s on her way.” She looked past Dean to Sam. “Breakfast is on the table, want me to help you downstairs?”

“I’ll do it.” Dean said, his voice tight. 

Dana shrugged. “Suit yourself.” 

Dean turned back to Sam, but didn’t say anything, just brought him the walker and helped him up. He slipped to one knee to re-tie Sam’s shoe then nodded. Sam moved toward the stairs with Dean behind him for support.

John appeared at the kitchen door with a cup of coffee. “What? Did you spend the night?” Dean asked as he got Sam to the bottom.

“Figured you’d need a hand.”

“We’re fine.” 

Sam shrugged apologetically and kept moving toward the table. Dana skirted around him and put a cup of coffee at his place. “I packed your suitcase, got you some pillows for in the car.” 

“Thank you Dana.” Sam sank into his chair and sighed with relief. She’d made pancakes with whipped cream instead of syrup. He pulled a finger through the smiley face she’d made on his and licked the whipped cream off. “Yummy.”

“I figured they’ll be feeding you hippy food…so you should have something decadent this morning.”

“You eating?” John asked Dean who had dropped into the seat beside Sam.

Dean shook his head. “Not hungry.” Sam could feel his eyes, would have even if he’d closed their connection completely.

He turned, brushing lips over Dean’s stubbly cheek. “Eat something.”

Dean just shook his head again. “You eat.”

“I’m going to go up and get your shaving kit and stuff.” Dana said, shoving a piece of bacon into her mouth. “Missouri said you need some personal stuff…something that’s you.”

Sam looked up at her. He wasn’t sure what that meant. “I have this.” He held up his hand, pointing to his ring. The ring Dean gave him. 

“That’s good. I put one of the prom pictures in your bag too.” She started for the stairs, but Sam caught her arm. 

He’d never told her, didn’t think even Dean knew. “In my room, in the trunk there’s a box. A shoe box. There’s…a small piece of blanket in it. Pink. I’d like that.”

She didn’t say anything thankfully, just rubbed a thought over him and nodded. There wasn’t much talking as the three of the Winchester men sat there. Sam concentrated on his plate, and the feeling of Dean’s hand on his thigh.

Dean’s hand tightened when the doorbell rang and John got up to let Missouri in. Sam pushed his chair back and went to stand, but Dean didn’t move. Sam pressed a kiss to his cheek. _I’m going to be okay._

Dean didn’t meet his eyes. _I’m not sure I will be._

Sam brushed a hand over his cheek. _You have Dana and Jo—Dad. You’ll be fine._ He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. _I love you_.

“I think I’ve got everything.” Dana said, setting a small duffle on top of his suit case. 

“I’ll take it out to the car.” John said, grabbing the luggage.

Sam pulled himself up, licking his lips. He was scared. He reached for Dana and she came, her mind wrapping around his as her arms did the same. Her fingers deftly tucked the little remnant of baby blanket into his jeans pocket as she hugged him tight.

“You going to be okay getting into the dorms next week?”

She rolled her eyes. “Like you were going to be a help?”

He grinned at her. “I supervise better than anyone.”

“I’ll be fine.” Her smile dimmed a little and she hugged him again. “Want help?”

“Just stick close, in case.” She nodded and stepped aside as he turned back to Dean. 

Dean stood and took Sam’s face in his hands. _Come home to me Sam._

“I will.” Sam said softly. Dean’s lips pressed to his, chaste at first, then deepening as Sam parted his lips, inviting him to take more. 

When they’d separated, Sam gripped his walker and started moving to the door. He could feel Dean’s anger ratcheting up again and turned just as Dean directed that anger at Missouri. He didn’t actually look at her, but there was no mistaking who he meant his words for.

“If anything happens to him, anything at all, there is nowhere you can hide from me.” He stalked away then, up the stairs, their bedroom door slamming shut.

“Well, he took that well.” Sam said with a sigh.

“He’ll be all right. Don’t you worry about him.” Missouri said, turning to follow him out onto the porch.

“Aristotle, get your ass out of the car.” John said as Dana floated Sam to the bottom of the porch stairs. Missouri’s car was parked at the curb, Sam’s suitcase and Aristotle on the back seat.

“How’d she get out?” Sam asked.

“She must have followed me.” John said, reaching in to take her collar. She pulled away so he couldn’t reach her.

Sam moved down the driveway slowly, then the sidewalk, until he was at the car. “Come on Ari, out of the car.”

She whimpered and he could almost swear she shook her head. “Great. I thought convincing Dean was the hard part.” He reached out for her mentally, getting a strong sense of fear and, quite unexpectedly, a really clear image of the _thing_ that had attacked him. He sent back love and what he hoped was a sense of security. She put her head down on his suitcase.

“Come on girl. I need you to look after Dean for me.” She lifted her head, sniffed the air. The front door opened. Dean stood there with Remmy in his arms. Aristotle looked at Sam, then Dean and slowly got up and out of the car. Sam scratched behind her ears and sent her scurrying toward the house with a tap on her backside. 

“Keep an eye on your Dad, even after you get moved in, okay?” Sam said to Dana. “He’s…not okay.”

“I’ll be here as often as I can.” Dana said.

“Don’t worry about us, Son.” John said, holding Sam’s door. “We’ll be fine. You go and get better.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’m going.” He reached out one last time for Dean and maneuvered himself into the passenger seat of the car. Dana folded up his walker and put it in the backseat. John shut the door and that was that. Sam let his connection with Dean slide away and sighed.

“You ready?” Missouri asked as she started the car.

“Would it matter if I said no?”

She smiled and pulled out on the street. He wondered if she had any idea how terrified he was.

 

Dean watched the car leave, felt Sam slip away. Dana was the first one back onto the porch. She opened her mouth to say something, but he raised a hand.

“I’m not talking to you.”

“Oh, that’s mature.” She brushed past him.

He looked at John as he came to the stairs. “I can’t go after him. But someone needs to. I’m pissed as hell with you…but…I need you to go watch over him.”

John scratched at his beard and nodded. “Was already planning to. Truck’s loaded with camping gear. What about the garage?”

“I’ll handle it.”

“You sure?”

Dean nodded slowly. “Just keep him safe, Dad.”

 

Missouri pulled the car to a stop and put it in park. Sam looked at the gates, then at her. “This is it?”

She nodded. “I’ll take you in. Introduce you to Ally and Inda. I’ll stay while they do the evaluation.”

“Then you leave.” Sam nodded. He hadn’t actually expected her to stay.

“You’ll do better without the distraction, Sam.” Her hand closed over his. “You need the space to not have to pretend anything or live up to any expectations.”

He blew out slowly. “It feels good.”

“We’re already over the first of the wards. Once we pass those gates, there’s nothing in heaven or hell that could get to you with the permission of those that guard this place.”

He wasn’t sure if that made him feel any better. He had no idea what to expect. Outside of Dana and Missouri his only contact with other adepts were…bad. That word didn’t cover it, but words were not being friendly. He let it go as Missouri started them forward again. She pressed a button and a warm feminine voice greeted her, the gates gliding open.

The dirt lane that led from the gates into the compound was smooth. They rolled along it and Sam could feel the peace of the place. It was warmer than he expected as he opened his door and put his feet on the ground. He stood, testing his strength. The long car ride had him cramped up and achy, but his legs held him.

Missouri brought him his walker and he moved out from the car. The parking lot had a few cars, and a trail led away into the trees where he could just see a building. If he closed his eyes he could feel them…about six people all together, not including Missouri and him. “Quiet,” he murmured.

“The better for meditation, Mr. Winechrest.”

Sam turned, a little surprised that she had managed to sneak up on him. She smiled warmly, pressing her palms together and bowing. “My apologies, I thought you were aware of me.”

Sam inclined his head. “I was admiring the…place.” He shook his head. He hadn’t had so much trouble with words in a while. He blamed it on the rough night and the time in the car.

She came closer, turning her attention to Missouri. Sam got the sense that they were communicating telepathically. He used the time to evaluate her. She was small, thin…her head shaved, but her features very soft, feminine. She was in a faint blue robe and sandals. She turned to him again and he could feel her sweep over him. She drew in a deep breath and reached a hand to his on his walker.

“I stand corrected, Mr. Winchester. I am Ally. My partner awaits us inside.”

She turned and walked up the path. Sam hesitated only momentarily before he set off after her. As he made the slight bend in the path, his breath caught in his throat. The building seemed to be formed out of the living forest, the roof covered in leaves, the walls the same dirt brown and grassy green of the surrounding ground. There were three stairs up to a porch. Sam eyed them and swallowed. He hadn’t tried even porch stairs on his own.

He looked at Ally who stood on the porch watching him. She was testing him. Problem was, he didn’t know what kind of test it was. Sam got to the step and pushed his walker to the side. He put a hand on the railing and picked up one foot. He put it on the step and shifted his weight. It took him a moment to trust that it would hold him and pulled himself up. Three stairs. He could manage three stairs.

Sam was panting as he got to the top. Missouri was oddly quiet as she placed his walker in front of him. Ally raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I see what you mean.” She inclined her head to Missouri, then turned and headed inside. Sam was sweating and shaking as he followed. 

They moved through an open lobby and into a spacious room with natural wood floors dotted with meditation mats. A man in similar blue robes and shaved head was bowing to an altar filled with candles and incense. He rose slowly and turned. He quirked an eyebrow at Sam, then bowed to Missouri. “It is pleasant to see you again, Sister.”

“Inda, this is the man I spoke to you about.”

He nodded, his eyes and senses sweeping over Sam. “Yes, I can see. Samuel, the heart of a god, cursed with the body of a man.” He snapped his fingers. “Manny, we shall need the evaluation room prepared.”

Sam was surprised when a young man seemed to step out of the wall, his robes the same color as the paneling. He bowed low and walked soundlessly out of the room.

“Come, we will sit and we can explain what will come.” He gestured to his right and the door that led into an office of sorts. Sam sank gratefully into a seat, Missouri standing behind him as Inda and Ally sat. “Tell us Samuel, why you have come?”

Sam looked up at Missouri, then at the two of them. “Well…I was…attacked by a…” He shrugged. Truth was, he didn’t really know, even now, what it was. “Well, we assumed it was a demon…but it wasn’t like any demon I’ve ever dealt with.”

“And have you dealt with many demons?” Ally asked, her voice light.

Sam squirmed. “More than my share.” He took a deep breath. “It ripped me up…physically, mentally. I can’t…my body is healing slowly, but my mind…it’s not.”

Inda drew in a breath and Sam got a sense that he was looking into him. “And you believe we can help you?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” Sam said. “And I’m terrified of you. But I’m more terrified of what I’m losing. I’ve worked hard to be the man I am…if all that work is torn away, I’ll be left as someone I don’t want to be.”

Ally nodded, then stood. “Manny is ready.” She turned to Sam. “I will escort you into the room. You will remove your clothing, and jewelry. You will find a white robe on the table. Put it on. Lay on the table and relax. Meditate if you can. Inda and I will need to enter your mind. It will be less painful for you if you can center yourself.”

“I’ll be right here, Sam.” Missouri said softly, squeezing his shoulder. 

Sam nodded and got up, following Ally out of the office and down a long hall. The room she escorted him into was fairly small, a padded table in the center, and shelves lined with candles around the walls. She showed him a drawer in the wall. “Put your things here. They will be ready for you when you leave.”

She paused and touched his right hand, his wrist. “I realize that hiding your scars makes you feel stronger, Samuel, but the truth is stronger than the glamour ever could be.” Her fingers stroked over the leather of the talisman and he squinted at it. He didn’t even remember putting it on.

He nodded and she withdrew. The fingers of his left hand rubbed over the worn leather and worked under the edge, popping it off. He watched as smooth skin bubbled and lifted, as white became angry red. He dropped the leather bracelet into the drawer and sighed. 

Something about Ally was comforting, but the two of them together was unsettling. He sensed no malice from either of them…only an almost indifferent vibe. He peeled off his shirt and toed off his shoes. Getting dressed and undressed had been difficult all week, and sometimes he got halfway and couldn’t remember which way he was going.

Now though, he managed, even if he almost went over backwards as he picked his jeans up off the ground. He got them into the drawer and looked down at the only thing that remained.

It hadn’t been there long. A year…a little more than that. It hadn’t been as dramatic as when Sam gave Dean his ring. He remembered he was in the tub when Dean put it on his finger. He remembered he was hurting…but happy. He twisted the ring around the finger. It marked him. Told the world he belonged to Dean Winchester. 

He tugged at it, slipping it up his finger, his gut twisting. It felt wrong to take it off, like he was leaving Dean all over again. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the tiny bit of blanket. It had been Dana’s…it still smelled like her. He settled the ring into the fabric and kissed the cool metal. “I love you both.”

He wrapped the blanket scrap around the ring and set them into the drawer, then turned for the robe. It took him a moment to maneuver it enough to get into it, then to arrange it to lay comfortably over his body. It didn’t do much to make him feel less naked.

He got himself up on the table and laid down, stretching and shifting until he was comfortable. Meditate, she said. He used to do that a lot. At least he kind of remembered doing it. He took a deep breath and settled his hands on his chest, willing his mind to stop whirling around the randomly firing memories.

Dana’s fifth birthday, with chocolate cake on the ceiling because she’d tried to help him with it. Aristotle giving birth in his closet. Dean giving him the ring. His father and a coyote. Sam took another deep breath and other memories surfaced. The punishment closet. The temple floor. The taste of blood.

He opened his eyes. Dean. He should concentrate on Dean. He closed his eyes again and breathed in deep. Dean’s lips. His eyes. Slowly, Sam centered, his breathing evened out. Warmth flooded him, the comfort of home, the feeling of love. He breathed in again and slowly out. Better. He centered again and let himself fall into a light meditative state.

He felt Ally first, her touch light. Inda’s was a little firmer.

_I am going to protect you, the core of you, while Inda examines you. Do you understand?_

Sam could already feel her circling him with light, isolating him from the chaos in his mind. _Yes._

Physically, he felt her hand touching his face, her thumb against his temple, her middle finger against his chin. _Float with me, Samuel._

Little by little, he let go of his death grip and let her draw him up and away from himself. He was aware of Inda moving inside him, of his hands examining Sam’s body while his mind examined Sam’s mind.

He didn’t know how long they floated, but eventually Ally was settling him back into himself. When he opened his eyes, Inda was gone and Ally smiled down at him. “You did very well, Samuel.” She brushed the back of her hand over his forehead. “So much pain. So much darkness.”

For some reason the tone of her voice brought tears to his eyes. She smiled softly. “Gather yourself. We will take you to the sanctuary shortly.”

 

Missouri paced around the office waiting. It had been nearly two hours. When the door opened, she turned. Inda nodded, folding his hands inside his robe before coming to stand beside her.

“I can not tell what did this, but it was not the work of a demon. There is no lingering mark of that type of evil, at least not from the latest trauma,” Inda said softly. “He should have been brought to us long ago.”

“He wouldn’t have come, he’s stubborn. I did the best I could.”

Inda nodded, offering her a smile. “You did well. It concerns me that such power could reside in such a man.”

“He thinks that whatever did this was after that power.”

“Perhaps.”

“Can you help him?”

Inda nodded. “It will take time. We must start soon, before the damage worsens. You should go make your farewells. I will have Manny bring his things.”

“What should I tell his family?”

Inda drew a deep breath. “Tell them that we will do what can be done to salvage his mind, but that it will depend upon his own will to be healed. The work required will be difficult, and his trust tested. He must become as a child and grow to be a man again.”

 

Sam followed Ally through the trees, poking at the little blob of healing power just to keep his body moving over the tough terrain. Eventually they came to a small building near a creek. He sank to a seat gratefully when he reached the picnic table, sweating and breathing heavily.

“You do not ask for help easily.” Ally said. It wasn’t a question.

“No, I don’t.”

“Even when help is easily at hand.”

“I was raised to believe I had to do things for myself.” Sam said, picking at the worn wood of the table top.

“That is a noble thing indeed, but foolish.” Ally caressed his cheek. “You must learn that there is no shame in seeking help. It is for help that you have come, and yet you have not asked.”

She turned away then, her eyes sweeping over the area. “This is the sanctuary. Only those with express invitation may access it. To all others, it is shielded. You are safe here, Samuel.”

“Why do you call me that?”

She looked at him, and it felt like she was looking through him. “It is your name.”

He shook his head lightly. “Sam. Everyone calls me Sam.”

“I shall call you Samuel. It is fitting. Come then, shall I help you inside?”

Somehow he felt like he was a child being scolded, and he wasn’t sure why. He nodded and let her help him up.

 

“Dad!” Dana struggled down the stairs with the second big box, then gave up and floated it down. 

“Dad!” The second day and he still wasn’t speaking to her. She’d gotten permission to get into her dorm room a few days early, and Scott was busy getting himself ready to move. Papa had gone off to keep an eye on Sam and that left her moving her crap all by herself.

Her father came out of the kitchen as she got to the bottom of the stairs, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. “That you’re answer to everything?” He scowled at her. “A little help would be nice,” she said.

In response, he hit the box, sending it twirling through the air and upending it, dumping clothes all over the floor. She understood he was hurting, but something was going to have to snap him out of this.

“Move your own damn self. You did just fine moving Sam the fuck out of here.”

“Dad…” She reached for him with one hand, but he pulled free and headed up the stairs. “Fuck.” She shook her head and went to clean up the mess. There was a quick knock at the door and it swung open to reveal Scott. “Hey.”

“What happened?”

“My father is behaving like a child.” Dana said, throwing clothes back into the box. “He’s upset that I sided with Missouri and Sam.”

The bedroom door slammed shut and Scott looked up the stairs. “He’ll come around. You said it was the best thing for Sam, right?”

She rolled her eyes and stood up to kiss his cheek. “I love you…but Winchesters are stubborn.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I get that, Dana. I get that. But I also get that your old man loves Sam. I mean, like intense. If it really is the best thing, he’ll come around.”

Dana licked her lips and looked up the stairs. That was a really big if. Truth was she wasn’t sure Sam would come back any better than he left, and if he was worse…her father might never forgive her. She went back to throwing her clothes back into the box. “Good thing I’m not the pack rat Sam is.”

“You okay?”

Dana made a face. Truthfully, it stung. Her father had never treated her like this. “He’s angry…he’s never been angry like this.” She bit her lip and fretted over it. It was about Sam and she knew it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting. “Not at me anyway.”

He kissed her lightly, then bent to help. “Why don’t you let me help you?”

“You have your own packing to do. Don’t worry. I’ll just wait until after dark and I’ll float everything in if I have to.” She stood and lifted the box with an eyebrow raise.

“Right, because dark means no one around on a college campus.” Scott said with a smirk, catching her around the waist and drawing her in to kiss again. “At least let me help you load the car.”

She rolled her eyes, smirking, kissed him back. “Okay. There are more boxes in my room.” She kissed him again, pointed to the box and aimed it at the front door.

 

Dean could hear Dana and Scott up and down the stairs. He wanted to open the bedroom door and scream at them to go away. He wanted to be alone…no, he wanted Sam. But since Sam was gone, he wanted to alone. He wanted to sulk and feel the ache and drink until it went away.

When he finally heard the SUV fire up and pull out, he figured he was safe. He opened the door and came face to face with Scott. “What the fuck?”

Scott nodded to him. “Dana’s pretty upset.”

“So?” Dean maneuvered around him, aiming for the stairs. Not that he knew why, just that he would have felt dumb going back into his room. 

“So I think you’re being an ass…sir.” 

Dean turned to look at him. At least he had the good sense to look nervous. Scott swallowed.

“Why are you still here?”

“I love Dana.” Scott answered and Dean scowled at him.

“In my house. Why are you in my house?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“You’ve done that. Goodbye.” Dean headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. He cursed when Scott followed.

“Dana loves you and Sam. She wants him to have the best chances to—“

“Fuck you.” Dean turned on him. “Fuck you. You have no place to talk about Sam or what he needs. You have no right. Get out. Go off to your fucking school in fucking California and forget us, forget everything.”

To his credit, Scott stood his ground. “No. No, sir. I love Dana and she loves me and—“

“And what? You gonna marry her?” Dean snorted. “Yeah right.”

“What? You’re not making any sense.”

“You think you got what it takes to handle a Winchester? You don’t know the half of it do you? You think just because you got in her pants first that you get to have her forever?”

“Okay, I get that you’ve been through a lot. But really, you’re starting to worry me, and Dana’s already freaked out.”

“Dana isn’t freaked out. She’s a freak. Goddamn fucking powers make her think she’s so much smarter than her old man…thinks she knows what’s best. Just does whatever the fuck she wants.” 

He pulled a picture off the fridge and shoved it at him. “Always does whatever the fuck she wants, doesn’t give a shit about the rest of us.” The picture was the three of them on top of After Six. They looked happy. It pissed Dean off. He knew he should stop. Should shut up, but he was on a roll. “Don’t think so? You ask her about Yosemite.”

Dean pushed past him, back toward the stairs. “And get the fuck out of my house.”

 

“Once we begin only the three of us will be here, in this space, until you are strong enough again to handle others.” Ally said, lighting candles around the small room. 

Nearby Inda was deep in meditation. The boy had brought his things and withdrawn. Ally held up the bit of pink blanket. “I find it telling, Samuel, that when told to bring with you that which defines you, you bring things which come to you from others.”

Sam shifted nervously. “I am who I am because of who they are.” 

She smiled and set the bit of blanket and the ring wrapped inside it on a high shelf in the room. “Are you ready to begin?”

“Already?” Somehow he thought they would start in the morning.

“The sooner we begin, the sooner you may return to those you love.”

She moved closer in the restricted space, urged Sam onto the mattress that was shoved into the corner of the room. It was soft, cushioned with pillows and blankets. 

“Are you going to tell me how this works?” Sam asked. He felt strangely exposed, and the fear that this wouldn’t help was niggling the back of his brain.

“We will begin by regressing you to infancy.” Ally said.

Sam started at the idea. “Infancy?”

“You will be as a child, emotionally and mentally. We can do nothing about your memories, can not erase your past…we can only help you rebuild the container in which they dwell.” She helped him lay back in the cocoon of blankets and pillows. “Make your body comfortable and relax, you are safe.”

He didn’t feel particularly safe. He felt as though the world were tilting out from under him. “Close your eyes Samuel. Make your mind blank. Breathe deeply.”

He did as he was told, tried to center himself. He poked at the healing power for good measure, feeling the familiar warmth ripple through him. “Good, Samuel.” He felt her first, wrapping around him, guiding him deeper into himself. “Show me your earliest memory.”

The image popped up almost unbidden, the dark closet, the fear…the voice of the man who raised him…Her presence brushed over him, stilled and soothed him. _Now go back further._

He didn’t think he could, but there she found an earlier image…looking up at the mansion, standing in the snow…cold and curiosity…there was a hand holding his… _Still earlier, Samuel._

There was a string then…faces, places…emotions, all fleeting, racing past like a movie going backwards…as it slowed and stopped, Sam felt himself fall into the memory, into the tiny body in a crib, gurgling up at a face…a face framed in blond hair. _Mom_. The word reverberated around in his brain.

His tiny hands reached up to her and she smiled softly, her voice humming out a lullaby. He could feel tears leaking from his eyes, but his ability to make his body move seemed to be gone. 

_Do not fight, Samuel. Trust this moment, this memory…trust me._

He felt Inda then, settling over him like a stifling blanket. He tried not to panic, concentrated on his mother’s face, her voice. In the memory, his mother moved to the side, letting his father lean over the crib. “Hey Sammy, it’s Daddy.”

His stomach twisted and he felt something snap, heard a snipping sound…words fled and he clung to the feeling of _Mom_ and _Daddy_ as though they were everything. There was another snip and he started to cry, his sense of body and self dissolving into the memory, his little feet kicking as Daddy reached in and picked him up, shushing and cradling him to his big chest.

Tiny fists closed over Daddy’s shirt and Sam cried into its cotton.

 

“Dana?” 

Dana peered over boxes to find Scott at the door to her dorm room. “I thought we agreed you were going home to pack.” 

He was upset, she could read that from where she was, even without applying any powers. “I—“ He shook his head and climbed over boxes. “I talked to your dad.”

She sighed. That was probably not a good thing, considering the state of mind her father was in. “Scott, he’s…not himself. I figure we give him a few days to cool off, things will be better.”

“I don’t know Dana…he’s really cracking.”

She stopped and looked at him. He sounded concerned, beyond just her father hurting her with his anger. “What did he say?”

Scott shook his head. “He wasn’t making sense, talking about you like…asked me if I was planning to marry you, said you thought you were better than him…he was just…crazy.”

She wanted to reach into his head and see what had happened, but that was forbidden. She’d never done it to him, and she wasn’t going to start now. Scott sighed. “You don’t think he’d hurt himself do you?” Scott asked.

“No.” Dana shook her head. “Not him. Sam’s the only martyr in this family.” At least, she didn’t think he would. “Why would you ask?”

Scott sighed and reached for her. She moved into his arms, hugging him to her.

“He reminded me of my uncle. Right after his partner died.”

She nodded into his shoulder. If they’d actually lost Sam, she would be more worried. But Sam was alive. Her father was angry, maybe even a little destructive, but he wouldn’t hurt himself over it. Still, maybe she should take him some dinner. 

“He said something about you and Yosemite.” Scott pulled back and looked at her. “He was just…yelling about how I couldn’t handle you and that you were…” Scott stopped himself and looked away.

Dana frowned and turned his face back to her. He was keeping something from her, and it had to do with why he was so upset. “What did he say?” Her heart was pounding. If her father said anything about Travis, she was going to have to kick his ass.

“He called you a freak.” Scott said after a minute, hanging his head. “That’s when I knew he’d lost it.”

Dana exhaled slowly. “I’m going to go check on him.”

“You want me to come with?”

She shook her head and kissed him lightly. “You have a plane to catch tomorrow. Go home and see your parents.”

“You still want to take me to the airport in the morning?”

“Wouldn’t want you going off without the chance to say goodbye.” Her heart fluttered. She was going to miss Scott…she hadn’t let herself think too much about it. “I love you, you know?”

“I do know.” Scott said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Good luck.”

Dana walked with him down to their cars, waved as he drove off, then got into Sam’s SUV and headed out in search of food to give her father. She was half tempted to drug it…but that was only postponing what really needed to happen.

Not that she was really sure what that was. She ended up at the fried chicken place, because grease seemed to make him happy. She headed for home then. The Impala was sitting in the driveway. The house was quiet for the most part…all but the pit of misery and anger that was her father sitting in the center of it.

Aristotle greeted her as she opened the door. She smiled and scratched her head. “Hey Ari…where’s…” 

Her father sat up, glaring at her from the couch. Rembrandt jumped up and barked at her. “Oh. I brought dinner.”

“Got dinner.” Dean raised the bottle. It was more than half gone. 

“Great, you’re drunk.”

“Not.” He lurched to his feet as she put the bucket of chicken on the table. 

She reached for the bottle and took it from him.

“Hey.”

“You’ve had enough.”

“Not my mother.”

“No, but Papa isn’t here to put you on your ass, so you’re stuck with me.” He reached for the bottle but she pulled it away. “Eat, then you can have the bottle back.” She headed for the kitchen while he pulled the bucket toward him and made a show of biting into a piece of chicken. “See, not so hard.” She let the kitchen door shut and upended the bottle in the sink. She said he could have the bottle, not the whiskey.

Dana poured a glass of water and went out to give it to her father. “Here, drink this.”

He didn’t sit, just hovered over the table eating. “So, you scared Scott. He thinks you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Told him to fuck off.” Dean said around a mouth of chicken. 

“Told him a lot, didn’t you?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “What did you tell him about Yosemite, Dad?”

“Told him to ask you. Little fuck thinks he knows you.”

“That is none of your business.” She was angry, but yelling at him probably wouldn’t help. “I get that you’re pissed Dad. I get that you’re hurt and you’re scared. But that doesn’t give you the right to—“

“Don’t you dare talk to me about what I have the right to do, young lady. You are still my daughter.”

“Yeah, your freak daughter. Maybe I should just leave you to your misery.”

He paled, but didn’t back down. “Maybe you should.”

“You know how to reach me when you sober up.” She stormed out, slamming the door. Scott was right. Her father was losing it.

 

John followed the directions Dana had given him, ended up driving past the retreat and a few miles down the road to the campground shortly before dark. He wanted to explore, see how close he could get, test the protections Missouri had said were in place, but first things first. 

He needed to set up camp. The tent was bigger than he needed, something Dean had bought years before when he was still insistent on the whole family vacation thing, big enough for three adults to sleep comfortably. He set it up and filled it with his cot, because he wasn’t a young man anymore and the thought of more than one night on the ground made him hurt, and went about making a fire. 

It would be morning before it was safe to wander around. He set some soup to warm by the fire and broke out his kit. He walked a circle around his camp, salting the ground, then blessing it with holy water, murmuring an incantation as he went. 

Maybe he wouldn’t be as secure as Sam, but he’d be safe enough for the night.

 

He was aware of warmth, gentle touches. He was on his back, his eyes closed. He was safe. The part of him that recognized these things was distant, not a part of what was happening. 

There was nothing in the vast open space, no memories, no fears…there was only safe and warm and the silvery blob…it rippled, caressed by unseen hands and it washed through him…healing. His body was flushed with it, the physical pain a distant ache that was fading.

_Rest Samuel…sleep and let us work._

He knew the voice, knew and couldn’t place it…but he obeyed, slipping back into the womb-like safety of the warm place and letting go again.

 

Dean woke up, and wished he hadn’t. He was face down on the couch, or his face and chest were. His feet were on the floor. He was stiff, sore, hungover. After Dana had left, he’d dug out the tequila. The bottle was still in his left hand.

He groaned and tried to move, only succeeding in crashing the rest of the way to the floor. Aristotle lifted her head and looked at him. Remmy bounced over to lick his face. “Too old for this shit.”

He managed to pull himself upright and staggered out to the kitchen, dropping the bottle in the trash and reaching into the fridge for a bottle of water. He stumbled up the stairs and found aspirin, then crashed into the bed. Maybe if he tried to sleep he’d feel better. 

He pulled Sam’s pillow to him, hugging it and breathing in the smell of Sam. At least until the pills and water hit his stomach, then he was up and lurching for the bathroom. 

Three hours later he pulled himself up off the tile floor and showered. His head was pounding…his stomach was queasy, but he was vertical. He wiped the steam from the mirror and sighed.

He looked like shit. His eyes were sunken deep and dark. He’d lost a lot of weight. He hadn’t shaved since Sam left. He picked up his razor, then shook his head. Maybe he’d let it be…grow it out…at least until Sam came home to him.

Remmy peeked his head into the bathroom, whining. “Shit, you probably need to go out, don’t you buddy?” Dean scooped him up and headed for the back door. Aristotle joined them as he opened the door. She ran out, circling the yard and sniffing, peering into one hole after another.

Dean put the puppy down, watching him run out and squat, peeing with a look on his face that said it was heaven to do it.

Aristotle tended to her own business, then resumed circling the yard. She sat on the spot where they’d found Sam, her eyes coming back to Dean. “I miss him too.” Dean said softly. 

The yard was a disaster. Dean sighed. Cleaning it up would give him something to do, and the dogs some time outside. “Keep an eye on Remmy, Aristotle.” He left Remmy running madly around the yard with Aristotle watching and went to get some tools from the garage.

 

John groaned and rolled off the cot to his feet. The tent was toasty, the small heater warming the space quite well. It was cold out there. He shoved his foot into his boots and stumbled out to take a morning pee and start some coffee. 

There’d been a time when he’d have scoffed at the camp stove sitting on the tailgate of his truck, or the generator sitting in the bed or the heater in the tent. He got his coffee started and looked around him. Bobby’d probably laugh at him and crack wise about old age. 

The mighty John Winchester, reduced to relying on gadgets.

“Fuck him.” John said out loud. He was nearly fucking sixty-five years old. He’d earned the cot and the heater. Hell, he had earned a five star hotel, not a camp site.

Yet, the woods were quiet, peaceful, an excellent place for a retreat…if you were into that sort of thing. He could hear the stream nearby. There was probably good fishing to be had somewhere in the neighborhood.

He unfolded a chair and sat, cradling a cup of coffee to him. He’d have some breakfast and then go scouting out this protected space. Test it. 

He nodded to himself. Sam would be safe. One way or another.

 

_Samuel._

He rose to the voice, reaching for it. He was surrounded by warmth, by family. Mom and Daddy and Brother. 

There was more structure now. There were walls and soft, squishy places. There were memories. Voices and pictures. Mom in her nightgown. Daddy smelling like oil. Brother with soft hands.

_Samuel, it is time to move forward._

He didn’t want to move anywhere. He wanted to hold on to this…to stay here where he had them, where they all held him and loved him. He was pulled. His little hands couldn’t hold him there.

He cried.

_Samuel_.

He opened his eyes. She smiled at him, touched his face. “You need to eat. Then you may go back within.”

His hands didn’t move. She lifted a spoon. “Open.” His mouth opened and she deposited a spoon full of something warm and mushy. He swallowed. His cheeks were wet from crying. His body felt heavy. She wasn’t his Mom. He knew her though. Trusted her. She fed him until it was gone, wiped his mouth and held a sippy cup to his lips. 

When he’d swallowed the milk, she helped him lay back down, smoothing a hand over his face. “Sleep now Samuel. We will begin again in a few hours.”

 

Dean had filled in most of the holes and was filling the gas tank on the mower when he caught Aristotle growling at a hole near what was once the hedge. He put down the gas can and crossed the yard. Remmy raced ahead of him, his nose following Ari’s until she nipped at him.

Remmy squealed and backed away, then barked at Aristotle. She looked at Dean, then scratched at the hole. 

“Whatcha got Ari?” Dean asked, moving close enough to squat and reach into the hole. He stopped before he actually touched the dirt. Ari’s teeth were bared and she growled at it…whatever it was. All Dean could see was ash and dirt. 

He got up and went for the shovel. Ari was still growling at the hole, with Remmy barking at it, then at her, then looking to Dean for approval. Dean poked the shovel into the hole, and hit something squishy. He pulled it up and dumped it on the grass beside the hole. 

Aristotle jumped back, barking and whining. She nipped at Remmy when he tried to sniff at whatever it was. Dean squatted down and looked at it. The smell was atrocious. He pulled out his pocket knife and used it to scrape the dirt off of it so he could get a look. 

It was…flesh, of a sort. Rotted flesh. 

“Is this what hurt Sam, Ari?” It reeked of sulfur and something baser, rotten. Dean went for the hose, washing the dirt off it. “The question is, what is it, exactly?”

He poked at it with his knife, then wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. “It stinks, eh, Remmy?” 

Remmy renewed his barking in response. “Maybe this can help me find the son of a bitch.”

He went to the garage and came back with a garbage bag, dumping the hunk of stinking, rotting flesh into the bag and bundling it up. He remembered seeing something when helping Sam research something a year before, something about a summoning or a finding spell…that could take a piece of the flesh of a thing and show you where to find the something it fell off of.

Dean shoved the garbage bag into the refrigerator hoping it wouldn’t rot away completely while he figured out what he needed and headed up the stairs, into Sam’s little used bedroom and the closet where he hid the most serious books, the ones they didn’t want Sam to admit he owned. 

Aristotle jumped up on the bed, watching with what Dean could only guess was disapproval as he hauled the trunk out and started digging. He grabbed four or five that might be what he was looking for and settled on the floor to page through them.

He discarded the first one because it was in Latin, the one he wanted was in English. An hour later, he dumped those books into a pile and grabbed a bunch more. 

“Gotcha.” He jumped up, noticing that the room had gotten dim and glancing at the clock. He’d dug through most of the trunk. The book had been near the bottom, with the darkest of the dark. He stepped over the piles of books and headed downstairs.

Dean pulled the bucket of chicken out of the fridge along with a bottle of water. He settled at the kitchen table with the book and his cold meal. He read through the spell. It wasn’t simple. He didn’t have half the things he needed. With a chicken leg sticking out of his mouth, Dean went to grab the shopping list pad off the fridge along with the magnet pen, scribbled down the list of things he needed.

If he hurried, he could get to the occult store before they closed.

 

John discovered the first of the barriers without a lot of effort, marked off the boundaries. He passed through it fairly easily. The entire area felt peaceful, comforting.

By late afternoon he’d found himself wandering in circles. Obviously there was a distraction spell or something similar.

He made his way back to camp. His senses told him he wasn’t alone, but he couldn’t quite identify anyone. Not until he came around his tent. There, in his camp, sitting on his chair, was a woman.

She was slight of build, bald, delicate features. Her blue robes were vaguely Buddhist in style. She smiled at him, despite the gun in his hands. “Good evening, Mr. Winchester. I am Ally.”

John lowered his gun, but not his guard, stepping cautiously toward her. She’d started a small fire. “I mean you no harm, I promise.”

“Why are you here?”

“I have come to request that you to let us work with Samuel without interference.”

“I am not here to interfere.” John said, putting his gun in his pocket. “Just want to make sure my boy is safe.”

She smiled again, inclining her head. “Your boy is both safe, and hardly a boy.”

“Never got the chance to be my boy. But he means the world to me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “His love for his family is strong.”

John nodded. He didn’t know why but he wanted to tell her things he didn’t even tell Dean…or Sam.

“He was taken from you.” It was a simple statement, but it cut through and he sat down hard on the fallen log near the fire.

“He was six months old. I thought he was dead. I never even looked for him.”

“Samuel has lived a difficult life.”

John nodded. Difficult was a polite word. “I lost his mother the same day. He was raised by…evil.”

“He is no angel himself.”

No. Sam was no angel. “He is a good man.”

She cocked her head. “We shall see the truth of that soon enough.”

“How is he?”

“Samuel is healing. We have segmented his mind to allow the physical healing to take place faster. The mental and emotional healing will take longer.”

“Segmented?”

“We have parted off his memory from his physical being. We have made a space for him to grow up again, as he should have, with his gifts as part of him. He is, essentially two people. When he has healed and grown he will become again one.”

John shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Right now, Samuel is as an infant, perhaps a toddler. We have locked away his memories and his gifts to allow him to be this child. We will progress him a little at a time, release his mind and his powers as they would have been as he grew. We will see who he is when it is done.”

“He’s a baby?”

She inclined her head again. “In a manner of speaking. He has the body of a man, but the mind of a child.”

John was decidedly uncomfortable with that idea…that Sam…as mammoth as Sam was, could be reduced to infancy. “Can I see him?”

“That would not be wise.” She stood, folding her hands. “I must return, he will need to be roused and fed shortly.” She closed her eyes briefly and everything stilled around them. “I am most impressed with your wards, Mr. Winchester. I have augmented them. No harm will come while you sojourn here.”

“I want to help.” John said as she stepped over his outer boundaries.

She looked at him. “Perhaps when he has progressed. It might offer him some comfort on the journey.”

“He didn’t get to be a kid the first time around.”

Again, she inclined her head. “I am aware. I will return in a few days. We will talk more.”

“I’ll…be here...”

 

Dean slammed into the house and dropped his bag on the kitchen table. He wanted a beer, but even he knew better than to mess with magic, particularly dark shit, with alcohol in his system. It would be bad enough sober.

He held no delusions about what he was about to do. It was going to cost him, one way or another. But, it would lead him to the fuck that hurt Sam.

It was a no brainer.

Dean locked the doors, went to Sam’s bedroom to gather the few things he needed, then retreated into their bedroom. It took him more than an hour to clear the floor space and remove anything that could hurt him if things went bad.

Another hour was spent chalking out the symbols on the floor. He took his time and moved slowly through each complex set. Next, he sprinkled the herbs around the space and crushed some into the cast iron cauldron set in the center of his circle. 

It was nearly midnight before he was actually ready to begin. Remmy was whining outside the door. Dean ignored him and dumped the rotten hunk of flesh into the caldron amid the herbs. The stink in the room doubled. He checked his set up. 

The compendium of supernatural beings, which Sam had a big ass name for, was open to the middle to the right of the cauldron. The spell book was on the left. Candles marked the circle at the ordinal points. Parchment and ink lay by the compendium. 

If he did this right, and whatever the fuck this thing was actually was in the compendium, it should open to the page, the entry marked with a burn mark, and a location should appear…with any luck on the parchment. The book wasn’t real specific about that part.

Dean settled down on the floor inside his circle of symbols. He heaved a heavy breath and lifted the knife. It was one of Sam’s, a richly carved blade, sharp and deadly. He licked his lips and inhaled, his eyes falling on the spell book. The incantation was in a language he didn’t recognize…similar to Latin, but not quite the same. He spoke the first words carefully. 

The room chilled. Dean held his bared arm over the cauldron and moved into the next part of the incantation. It was harder, like he was pushing the words out of his mouth. He drew the blade over his arm, cutting deep enough that blood flowed freely into the cauldron. He finished the words and added the remaining herbs, finishing with a large piece of bloodstone.

The entire cauldron started to smolder, foul smelling smoke filling the room, making him cough. Remmy and Aristotle were both barking outside the bedroom door. Sparks rose up in front of him and a wind blew through the room. Both books got pushed around in the wind, pages rustling and turning.

There was a bright flash of light, then searing pain. Dean grabbed at his uncut arm, pulling the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal words being scrawled into his skin. Dean yelled as some invisible hand carved into him and blood welled up, obscuring the message. There was a bang and then silence…everything stilled. Even the dogs were silent.

Dean staggered to his feet and into the bathroom to wash and bandage his wounds. He concentrated on the left hand first, the one he’d cut. Got the bleeding stopped and a bandage wound around it. Then he moved to his right arm. He washed it and patted it dry with gauze. 

Cedar St.   
Lexington  
Nebraska.

His head was pounding and his stomach was threatening to explode. He staggered back to the book, the compendium. It was open to a page that made little sense. He picked it up. 

“No fucking way.”

A wave of dizziness hit him and he staggered to the bed. He dropped the book as it hit again. It was hitting him faster than he expected. He fell to the bed, rolling to bury his face in his pillow as the little bit of light in the room lanced through him. The wounds in his arms throbbed and he groaned, wishing it would just pull him under all ready.

 

_This is strange._ Sam was very aware of his body, of the fascination he had developed for some shiny thing Ally had given him…and yet he was aware of being separate, distant. 

_Relax, Samuel. It is a part of the process._

His body felt better, strong, whole. He couldn’t speak yet, only make sounds that vaguely expressed his feelings. There was anger and happy and hungry and something he hadn’t quite figured out.

He rolled onto his back on the mattress, holding a spoon above him, putting his feet up to stick it between his toes. He laughed, his whole body wriggling to the sound. Delight rolled through him, filling up everything outside the walls that contained him.

He tossed the spoon then, landing it in Ally’s lap. She smiled. “Very good Samuel. Your control improves.”

It startled him a little to realize he had guided the spoon. The power to propel it came from the throw, but he had guided it to her with his mind. He gurgled and laughed and reached for her.

_Remember now._

Sam pulled back a little as her hand descended onto his head and the walls that separated him from himself thinned. She controlled the flow of memories, images that were not as happy as the first bunch she had given back to him. 

Not-Mom and Not-Daddy. No brother telling silly stories. There was a dark room. A crib that felt like a cage. Scary things in the corners. He cried and rolled away from her, his hands covering his face.

_Stop._

Sam watched helplessly from inside himself as he cried for Daddy. There was an understanding that Mom was gone, that only Daddy could come for him…and that Daddy wasn’t coming.

 

John was restless. He fished. He hiked up to the edges of the boundaries and back to camp. He chopped wood. He read the book he brought along. Once or twice, he checked his cell phone for a signal. 

He hiked down to the main road and got one, then couldn’t decide who to call. He dialed Dean’s number and it dumped him to voicemail.

He didn’t know what to say so he hung up and dialed Dana’s number instead. He got her voicemail too. “Check on your old man. He’s not answering his phone.” He hung up and headed back to camp.

John Winchester wasn’t a man who was good at waiting. Still, he sat in his chair and he waited.

 

Dana glanced at her phone and hit the “ignore” button. She didn’t need her Papa to call and tell her something was wrong. She was nearly to the house. She’d woken up in the middle of the night, sweaty and scared. She couldn’t place it…but she didn’t sleep, and she would have been home before now if she hadn’t been barricaded in by arriving students.

She pulled into the driveway. The whole house felt wrong…dark and nasty. For a second she was afraid that the thing had come back for Sam, and found only her father. She swallowed the panic and let herself in.

Aristotle barked at her from the top of the stairs, Remmy appearing between her legs and barking too. “Dad?”

There was an empty paper bag on the table, and a receipt from the occult store on the other side of town. That didn’t bode well. She called out again, scanning for him. The smell of sulfur drifted down the stairs…sulfur and something else, like burnt flesh. 

She raced up the stairs, her heart in her throat. He was alive, she could feel him. “Dad!” His bedroom door was locked. Aristotle whined and scratched at the door. “Open the door.”

“Go away.” Dean’s voice was ragged, dark.

“Like hell. What did you do?”

Aristotle went to the open door to Sam’s bedroom, barking. Dana followed. It looked like a hurricane had hit the place. There were books everywhere, Sam’s trunk over turned. “Fuck. What did he do?”

She went back to his door and pounded on it. She could hear him groan. “I’m coming in.” She flicked the lock with a thought and pushed open the door.

He was barely standing and trying to pack a bag with clothes. All around him was the detritus of major spell working. He’d pulled up the carpet and drawn chalk symbols on the floor. The bed was pushed against the wall, the window open to let the stench out, though it seemed to be clinging to the room anyway.

“What the fuck did you do?”

Dean scowled at her. She moved closer. Both of his forearms were bandaged. Poorly. He looked like he’d been rolled over by a semi. “Shit. Dad.” 

He raised a hand to silence her, then lost his balance and collapsed to the floor. “Found the fucker. Gonna end it.” He dragged himself up and she reached to help him.

“You’re not going anywhere but to bed.”

He yanked his arm away. “Fuck you. I’m your father. I do what I want.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped back, letting him fall back on his ass. “Fine.”

She stepped out the room and leaned over the railing, calling his car keys to her hand. She pocketed them and leaned in the doorway. “You going to tell me what you did?”

He was covering his eyes and moaning. “Blowback’s a bitch, it must have been pretty bad.” Her eyes spotted the corner of the book peeking out from under the dresser. She crossed to it, squatting next to it as Remmy finally found his way around the circle drawn on the floor and wriggled his butt into Dean’s lap.

Her eyes scanned the marked page, then flicked to her father. “Did you do this spell? Dad.” He groaned. She was losing patience. “Answer me. Did you do this spell?”

He nodded slowly and she exhaled her held breath. “You found something it left behind?” Again, the slow nod. She skimmed through the spell. He must feel like shit. This level of spell work would kick the ass of a skilled practitioner, and he was less than an amateur. “Fuck, Dad. You should have called me.”

He lifted his head, but all she could see was the pain etched on his face. She wanted to be angry, to lecture him, but she couldn’t, not when it was obvious he was really hurting…and from more than just the blowback. She sighed and went to him. “Let’s get you into bed.”

“No. I’m going.”

“We’re going. After the blowback passes. You’re no good to me on a hunt if you can’t even stand up.”

The fight seemed to leave him and he let her help him up and onto the bed. Remmy followed, curling into a ball beside him. “Did you find out what it was?” Dana asked as she pulled a blanket up over him. 

Dean’s face scrunched up. “Must have screwed something up…” He pointed toward the end of the bed. The compendium lay there and she picked it up, paging through it. 

She stopped when she found the scorch mark, frowning into the book. “Why would something like this come after Sam?”

Her father’s eyes were closed though and he was nearly asleep. She shook her head and went into the bathroom to get something to deepen his sleep enough to shake off the blowback. Although judging just from a casual reading of the spell, it was going to be at least forty-eight hours before her father would be on his feet.

 

He hadn’t quite mastered the stairs, but found he could go down them on his butt, bump-bump-bumping until his long legs hit the wood floor at the bottom. He giggled when Inda looked up at him, his face surprised.

“Ally, our prodigy has found his way down the stairs.”

“Ally!” Sam reached arms up and she came out of the kitchen to hug him and help him stand.

“Are you hungry, Samuel?”

He bit his lip and nodded. “Hungry.”

Ally held his hand and led him into the kitchen, holding the chair while he sat. Inda joined them as Ally served lunch. She gave Sam a sippy cup with milk in it. He drank half of it and put the cup down. “Where’s my Daddy, Ally?”

She turned and looked at him, then at Inda. “He’s waiting for you to get better Samuel.”

“Was I bad?” He frowned at the plate she put in front of him.

Ally sat beside him and took his hand. “You have done well.”

He made a face at her. “They took me away.” He frowned, concentrating on the memory. “Was I bad?” 

“No Samuel, you were not taken away because you were bad.” Inda said. “You should eat your lunch. Our afternoon work will be difficult.”

Sam scrunched his nose and picked up his sandwich. “Don’t like work.”

“It will make you better.” Ally replied, biting into her own sandwich.

“Then I can see my Daddy?” Sam asked.

“Yes, Samuel, then you can see your Daddy.”

 

Dana took a deep breath and let herself into her father’s room. She’d managed to get things cleaned up and sort of back to normal, but the stink permeated the whole house. She’d taken the dogs for a walk, made dinner, and did a little research.

Now, she just had to get her father to a place where he could actually hunt. Even if she still wasn’t sure what they were hunting. Her father was awake, she could tell, even though his eyes were closed. 

“I brought you some sunglasses. They should help.” She set the tray with its chicken broth and crackers on the bed and put the sunglasses in his hand. He slipped them on. “I can give you some aspirin, but trust me, it won’t help.” She helped him sit up and handed him the cup of broth. “Let’s try this first. See if you can keep it down.” From her own recent bout with blowback, she remembered that, even the thought of food, had been nauseating. 

Dana sat on the end of the bed with the compendium trying to reconcile what had happened to Sam with the thing in the book. 

Supernatural, but not evil. Kind of the opposite of evil, actually. What some called an angel. A creature of purity, of salvation. Something that acted the opposite of demons, helped people. Influenced them toward goodness.

She’d researched the spell, the bits and components and its expected outcome. If her father had gotten an actual location, then he’d done it right. 

Which meant that an angel had tried to kill Sam. 

Which didn’t make any sense.

“So, where is it?” Dana asked suddenly, turning to her father. 

“Nebraska.” He said, not looking up from the broth.

“That’s all you got?”

He sighed. He rubbed the bandage on his right hand on the bed. She stood and grabbed the hand.

“Dana…” His voice was dark with warning, but she pulled on the tape and slid the bandage down.

She gasped at the sight of the red, angry flesh. Cedar St., Lexington, Nebraska. Three lines, carved into the flesh of his arm. “Fuck.”

She dropped the arm and rubbed her forehead. She had to find out how to kill an angel…or if they could…or should. 

“Get some rest Dad. We’ll leave in the morning.”

 

When he was like this, still, settled, he was aware of the two parts of himself. Inda guided him through an exercise, mentally following the path of a bird above him. He followed it until it reached a barrier. He couldn’t see past that barrier.

_It is to protect you._ Ally’s voice said inside him.

He slid along it, feeling it, following it down to the ground. There was someone there. Someone just outside it. He followed as that person paced around.

_Enough for now, Samuel. We shall continue this exercise later._

Inda pulled out and it was just him and Ally. She guided him to the silvery blob, held the space around it as he poked it, feeling the warmth flood him, feeling it replacing what he’d expended on the exercise.

He was only a little out of breath as he came up and opened his eyes. “I saw a man.”

Inda nodded. “Yes, he was near the barrier.”

Sam tilted his head. “He’s a good man.”

Ally smiled. “Yes, I do believe he is.”

He stretched and yawned. 

“Are you ready to remember?” Ally asked.

Sam stiffened a little. “Why do I have to? I don’t like it. I was scared.”

Her hand was warm and gentle on his. “You must grow, Samuel, and know the person that you are. This is why you are here.”

“Maybe I don’t want to know. I just want to be Samuel.”

“Perhaps, but perhaps Samuel is not all that you are.”

He pouted, but he knew it wouldn’t stop her. He tried to pull away, but she wrapped around him. She would release the memories ands would leave him sleeping to adjust to them.

 

“Too fucking old for this shit.” John muttered, dragging himself out of his sleeping bag and running a hand through his hair. It had been nearly a week and camping had never been his favorite thing. The tent was cold, the heater had obviously conked out somewhere through the night. He shoved his feet into his boots and stood. 

He smelled coffee and wood burning. He opened the tent cautiously only to find Ally sitting quietly beside the fire. “Good morning Mr. Winchester.”

“Call me John.” He stepped through the opening and crossed to the fire, holding his hands over it to warm himself.

“As you wish, John.” 

“You made me coffee?”

“It seemed a nicety.” She inclined her head to him.

She had a way of putting him off balance. Not many people could do that.

“Well, thank you.” He poured himself a cup and suppressed a shiver. “How’s Sam?”

She frowned slightly. “Precocious. He insists on progressing faster than I would like, and yet he resists some of the instruction that would make the progress easier on him.”

John nodded with a chuckle. “Sounds like Sam.” He sipped at the coffee, surprised to find it strong and good.

“He asks for you.”

She said it so casually and yet it broke him. He turned his back to her to hide the tear that escaped before he could rein it in. 

“We would like to see how interaction with you can help us to slow him. Would you be willing to father him?”

John turned around quickly, nodding and spilling coffee. “Of course. I—I want to see him.”

“He approaches the emotional maturity of an eight year old. Will you be able to handle that?”

Sam at eight. “What will he remember?”

“He has been given those memories, from the year he was seven and then eight. They are not pleasant memories.”

“Will he know me?”

She looked at him, her eyes sharp, gauging his reactions. “He seems to have a strong recall of you.”

Sam at eight was punished with a dark closet and demons that chewed on him. “When?”

“After his morning session. Come to the second barrier. We will bring him to you.” She stood. “You will have several hours, and then you will bring him back. We wish to try to keep him at this stage for a day or two, to slow him down and help him truly accept his gifts. He must acclimate or risk it all falling apart again later in life.”

John nodded. “What of his gifts?”

“He is pre-pubescent, and the advent of puberty generally brings them to fruition, however his gifts are powerful. He has full access to the healing power. He has some use of the gift to read energy around him and rudimentary mind reading. He is not entirely aware he does it yet.”

John nodded again. “I’ll be there.”

 

They didn’t tell him where they were going. Sam watched all around them as they walked, Ally on one side, Inda on the other. It was a beautiful day and he was excited about the birds singing in the trees. In all the time he’d been there, which he didn’t really know how long that had been, he hadn’t been away from the little house.

They passed through an archway and Sam shivered. He stopped and looked at the stone. “What is it Samuel?” Ally asked, watching him.

He looked at the stone. “It feels funny.”

“It is enchanted.” Inda said. “It projects an image outward to those who do not know it is there.”

Sam nodded and touched the stone. “It is very strong.”

“Come, Samuel, we are not at our destination yet.”

“Where are we going?” He asked, even though they hadn’t answered him the last three times he asked.

“You will see when we get there.” 

Ally slipped her hand into his and Sam smiled. “When will we get there?”

“Sooner if you pick up your feet.” Inda said, taking his other hand. 

 

John paced outside the barrier. It seemed thinner than the last time he’d been here. He chewed on his fingernails, then on his lip. He was nervous. Which was ridiculous. This was Sam. His son. 

He worked at calming his racing heart. 

There were shadows approaching. He held his breath as the barrier thinned further. Ally stepped through first, inclining her head in greeting. A man came next, similarly dressed, similarly bald. He also inclined his head. Together, they encouraged another through.

Sam.

He held their hands, his eyes wide, looking around him, then coming to rest on John. He blushed and looked quickly to Ally, clinging tightly to the man, almost hiding behind him.

“I am Inda,” the man offered. 

“John.”

“Samuel, do you know who this man is?” Ally asked.

Sam dropped his eyes to the ground, suddenly shy and uncertain. His toe dragged in the dirt. He nodded, glancing up at John, then quickly away.

“He’s my Daddy.” Sam said, his voice small and child-like.

John dragged in a breath and blinked at the tears that sprang unbidden to his eyes. “Yes, Sam. I am your Daddy.”

Sam looked at him, blinking himself. 

“Would you like to spend some time with your Daddy?” Ally asked.

He looked up at Inda as if expecting him to say no. “Can I?”

Inda smiled at him. “Of course Samuel. That is why we came here.”

Sam nodded slowly. Inda raised their joined hands toward John. Sam licked his lips and looked at John. 

Inda put Sam’s hand in his and John smiled through his tears as Sam stepped closer. “We will be here at sundown to take him back.”

“Yeah, okay.” John said, though his eyes never left Sam.

Inda and Ally both stepped back, slipping back behind the barrier.

Sam hesitated, looking at the place where they had disappeared, then at John. “Would you like to go for a walk? I saw a stream a ways that way.”

“Okay.” Sam held to his hand as they walked. John concentrated on breathing, on not scaring him with the intensity of the emotion welling in his chest.

As they neared the stream, Sam pointed. “Frog!” He let go of John’s hand and chased after the frog, leaping through mud and water with absolute abandon. Finally he caught the frog and tore back. “Look, Daddy! It’s a frog.”

John laughed. “It sure is Sam.”

“Ew! He peed on me!”

“You probably scared him to death. Why don’t you let him go?”

Almost too gentle to be real, Sam put the frog on the ground and patted its head. “I’m sorry little frog. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

He grinned up at John, big wide smile that sparkled with joy. John grinned back. He’d never seen Sam so happy, such unqualified happiness. “I wish Dean could see you.”

Sam stood up, and John shook his head. It was easy to forget he was a man when he was squatting on the ground. “Dean is my brother.” Sam said, like he was feeling out the words, testing them for reality. “The one from before I went away.”

John nodded, his throat constricting. “Yes.”

Sam cocked his head. “Ally told me I wasn’t bad.”

“No, Son, you’re not bad.”

He shook his head. “Not what I meant. Before. I was taken away, to a bad place. I thought it was because I was bad.”

John closed his eyes. It was hard to breathe. He shook his head. “No, Sam…you weren’t taken because you were bad.”

“Are you crying Daddy?”

John wiped his cheeks. “Maybe a little Sammy.”

“Did I hurt you? Did I hurt your heart?”

His face was so open and sincere. John felt himself crack open…felt every moment when he’d distrusted Sam flush him with guilt. “No, Sammy. I’m crying because I’m very happy that I get to spend this time with you.”

“I remember when I was really little, like six, I asked about you all the time. He wanted me to call him Dad and I told him no, that he wasn’t my Daddy and I knew it.” His face clouded up and he turned away. “When I’d say it, he’d punish me.”

He wanted to wrap his arms around Sam and never let go. “I’d give anything to keep you from remembering him at all.”

“Ally says it’s part of who I am so I have to remember.” He threw a stone into the water.

“Ally is pretty smart.”

Sam nodded and picked up another stone. “I know I’m big, and I know I’m here because something bad happened. Sometimes when we’re working I feel like me…sometimes I feel like _him_.”

“Him?” 

He nodded, skipping the stone downstream. “The man. He’s me, but not.” He stopped and looked at John. “Like this is me, but not me. Because me when I was this old for real, I didn’t have you…and it was not nice like here. I think I like here better. I like you better.”

“I love you Sam.” He couldn’t have stopped himself from saying it, even knowing how uncomfortable it usually made Sam to hear it.

Sam grinned and threw his arms around John. “I love you too Daddy!”

 

“You awake?”

Dean groaned and sat up, wiping at the drool. “Where are we?”

“Lincoln. There’s coffee.” 

Dean focused through the sunglasses on the thermos on the seat next to him. He wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for that. “What the hell did you give me?”

“Same thing you gave me.” Dana said. “You needed it.”

He stretched and looked at her. She was tense, both hands on the wheel. “You know where we’re going?”

She nodded. Without looking at him she said, “Yeah, I read it on your damn arm.” She took a deep breath. “I better not hear another word from you about messing with dark shit either. I swear to every god anyone ever believed existed I’ll tell Sam what stupid shit you pulled for this.”

“I don’t care if you’re pissed.” Dean sat up and reached for the thermos, pouring out a half a lid full. He made a face after tasting it. “Damn, it’s all sugar.”

“Deal with it. It’s what you get when you act like an ass and make your daughter do all the work.”

She was really pissed. Maybe more than he’d expected. “So I take it you did some research?”

She shook her head. “Yeah…with no help from your incapacitated ass. I also called the garage and let them know you’d be gone a day or two, and took the dogs to Missouri, and took Scott to the airport.”

Oh, he’d forgotten that. No wonder she was so worked up. In the midst of all this, she’d had to say goodbye to Scott. Sure, he’d be home for Christmas, but they all knew that high school relationships seldom survived college apart. And it was clear to anyone that knew either of them that Dana was deeply in love with Scott, and Scott was equally in love with her. How else could any normal kid stick with her through some of the things he’d seen?

“I’m sorry Dana.” Dean said quietly.

She seemed to soften up then, at least a little. 

“So, what are we after?”

She spared him a glance, then shook her head before looking back at the road. “You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

She licked her lips. “It’s a fucking angel, Dad. Some angel tried to kill Sam.”

“No such thing, Dana.”

“Yeah, Dad. Just like the zombies.”

 

John found himself dragging his feet the closer they got to the barrier, to the place where he had to give Sam back. The afternoon had flown by and dark was starting to creep down around them. 

Sam yawned and stumbled, catching himself on John’s shoulder then grinning at him. “You must be tired.” John said, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

“I guess.” He was quiet, and when he looked up again the little boy was gone from his face. He was suddenly serious and concerned. “Why do you cry every time I say Daddy?”

John took a deep breath, fighting those tears. Just days before Sam had forgotten he’d ever even called him Dad, had said goodbye to him as John. How could he tell an eight year old that he cried because he’d never heard that word from him. “Well, Sam…You’ve never really called me Daddy…and I like the sound of it so much, it makes me very happy.”

He stopped them, confusion evident on his face. “What did I call you?”

“Sometimes you called me Dad. Before that you called me by my name.”

Sam chewed on his lip, obviously thinking something through. “What does Dean call you?”

“Dean calls me Dad.”

Sam nodded, then moved closer, lowering his voice. “Would it be okay if I called you Daddy? At least for now?”

John nodded, pulled him into a hug. “That would be just fine, Sam. Just fine.”

Ally stepped through the barrier, smiling at them. “Good evening.”

“Ally!” Sam let go of John and hugged Ally with almost as much enthusiasm. “I found a frog and played in the water and we went for a long walk and there’s fish in the water!”

She looked to John. “I take it then that he had a good time?”

John gestured at Sam, his broad grin, his mud caked robes. “We both did.”

“Daddy said he’d take me fishing next time. Do I get to come back tomorrow? I wanna go fishing and have a sleep over. Can I have a sleep over Ally?”

“We shall see Samuel. If you work hard in the morning, perhaps you may spend more time with your father in the afternoon.”

Sam yawned again and she patted his hand. “We should get you fed and into bed. It has been a busy day.”

Sam let go of her and launched himself at John, wrapping his arms around him. “I love you Daddy. I’ll miss you.”

John didn’t even have time to recover and Sam was gone, back behind the barrier. He backed away until his back was against a tree, and he slid down until he was sitting on the ground. He wasn’t an emotional man, but something inside him had broken open, and in the dark of the woods with no one to see him, John Winchester broke down and cried into his knees.

 

Dana got them into a motel room and ran for food while her father showered. Or, that’s what she told him…and she would come back with food, so it wasn’t a lie.

Cedar Street wasn’t all that long, predominantly lined with warehouses and industrial complexes. Except for one unique place smack in the center of it. It was old, probably turn of the century at least. 

As churches went, it wasn’t much to look at. Modest stained glass windows, a wooden cross on top, not remarkable in any way, except for the fact that it was there, amid all the industrial stuff.

Dana parked the SUV across the street and looked at it. She hadn’t really expected it to be that easy…but she hadn’t expect “angel” either. Not after seeing the damage it had done to Sam. 

The attack had been vicious, cruel in an extreme she associated only with the darkest of evils. She knew she shouldn’t, but she opened the car door and got out, pocketing the keys as she crossed the street. She stood on the curb and looked at the church, let her senses slide over it.

There was old…wood and stone…a place of comfort for generations…worn down, forgotten…there was a man, polishing pews. He radiated the general goodness that she usually found in men who served people. There was no evil here.

She sighed and decided it couldn’t hurt to see if the man inside had anything to say. She kept her senses spread out around her and stepped up the stairs, opening the door. 

The man looked up, smiling softly. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Dana waved a hand and rolled her eyes at herself. He was older than her Papa, bent and gnarled. She could feel the aches of a lifetime of hard living from half way across the room.

“I don’t often get visitors in the middle of the week.”

“I was just passing by, and I had to come inside to take a look. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. It’s nice to see young ones in a place as old as this.”

“I was curious how it is this place is still here, when everything around it is warehouses and stuff.”

“We have been blessed.” He sat in a pew, and gestured for her to join him. “Over the years a mysterious benefactor has always come through to save us from destruction.”

“A benefactor? Like who?”

He shrugged. “We are never sure. There are those who say it is Bellius himself.”

“Bellius?”

He smiled. Apparently he liked telling this particular story. The happiness of having an audience radiated off him. “Bellius was an angel, a minor minion in the courts of the Almighty. He didn’t rebel with those who followed Lucifer, but neither did he side with those who fought against him. He was a muddler…he muddled through. Mixed the light and the dark. He dabbled in dark arts to achieve his God-given goals.”

“Dabbled?” Dana frowned.

The old man nodded. “Dabbled. Used dark magic to accomplish light deeds, argued that it was the results that mattered, not the means to get the results.”

“So…what happened to him?”

“God cast him out of heaven. Sent him to earth to learn the dangers of the dark he liked to play with.”

“Not hell?”

“It is said that God was merciful because Bellius had a good heart. He sought the right thing, simply chose the wrong path. God granted him the mercy of learning his lesson and returning one day to heaven.”

Dana took a deep breath. “So, what does this Bellius have to do with your church?”

“There are those who say Bellius founded this church, that it was on this very ground that he came to earth, and his first act of penance was founding this church.”

“So…he’s an angel, who can’t go to heaven?” 

He nodded. “Exactly.”

“Have you ever seen him?”

Again the old man shrugged. “I don’t know. The Bible tells us that angels pass among us as strangers.”

She chewed on her lip. “So he can appear human?”

“You certainly show a lot of interest for someone just passing through.”

She smiled at him. “I’m always curious about stories like these. Very inspirational.” She stood, wiping her hands down her legs before holding one out to shake his hand. It was wrong. More wrong than a lot of other things she’d done, but she scanned him. It was quick and she covered her tracks thoroughly.

He’d met Bellius. She had too. She nearly lost control when she realized when and where. She finished cleaning up any sign of her presence and pulled back, shaking his hand and high-tailing it out.

She was just getting into the SUV when she felt it, the smelly drift of that same murkiness that had alerted her at Yosemite, that had clung to Sam after the attack. She looked up, scanned the street. She couldn’t see him. 

Dana took a deep breath and masked her presence, slipped into the car and headed off to find food. She turned the story over and over in her head. If Bellius was an angel, he wasn’t evil…not in the strictest sense of the word. 

If he were, he’d have been made a demon, like the rest. Of course, that’s if you buy into that whole mythology, which to be honest, Dana wasn’t sure she did. She shook her head and pulled into the drive thru. Her father wouldn’t be satisfied until the _thing_ was dead, angel or not. 

Dana shoved the bags of food onto the passenger seat and headed back to the motel where her father waited. He wasn’t going to care about the fine lines, or any niceties. He wanted the thing dead.

She exhaled slowly and headed into the room. She wasn’t used to being the voice of reason, but then, she wasn’t used to her father going postal either. 

“What took so damn long?”

“I—did a little recon.” She’d planned on lying, but her father was fragile, she could see it. He was only barely holding on. “Found where I think it is…or where it’s comfortable. Got a name.”

She put the bags on the table, but he ignored them, holding up the gun in his hand. “Then let’s go kill it.”

She held up both hands and urged calm, though without actually making a connection first it just sort of hung in the air between them. “Slow down, Dad. We can’t just go barging in and killing it.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s in a church, first of all.”

“Never stopped me before.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sit. Eat. Let me tell you the story.”

“I don’t want some goddamn bedtime story Dana.”

“Dad, we’re not going after it until you’ve heard it. You need to know what we’re up against.”

Reluctantly he grabbed one of the bags and perched on the edge of the bed. She filled in the basics that the priest told her. 

“Okay, so now you’ve told me the story, let’s go kill it.”

She sighed in frustration. “Have you heard a word I said?”

“Angel, kicked out of heaven, hurt Sam…we kill it.” Dean balled up his wrappers and tossed them toward the trashcan, missing by a whole foot.

“Dad, it isn’t…it’s not a demon….we can’t just kill it.”

“Why not?”

She sighed, exasperated. She didn’t want to articulate the thoughts swirling around in her head. Figured her father should understand. “It isn’t evil.”

“What it did to Sam was plenty evil. It deserves killing.” He stood and checked his gun, shoving it into the back of his jeans and heading for the door. “Let’s go.”

“Dad.” She didn’t move, waited for him to come back.

“Dana, get your ass in the car.” Dean said from the doorway.

She stood, waiting for him to be in the room again before she slammed the door shut with the wave of a hand. “If you think it should die, maybe so should I.”

He stopped, blinked at her. “What?” He shook his head. “You’re not making sense Dana.”

“Maybe I am.” She sighed in frustration. “It got dumped from heaven for the same thing I did, Dad. It used something dark to accomplish something good. So did I.”

“You saved Sam’s life.” Dean came toward her, held her hands. “You saved him, and I love you.”

“So, is it because you love me that I’m not worthy of the same punishment?” 

“Dana, whatever it is, it came after Sam, first at Yosemite, then at home. It hunted him and nearly destroyed him.”

She nodded, looking at their joined hands. “I know. But…what if it thought…what if he thought it was the right thing?” She chewed on her lip. “What if it thought it was doing a good thing?”

“Good? Good? How is ripping a man’s mind to shreds a good thing, Dana?”

She shrugged and pulled her hands away. “I…I don’t know Dad. I just…I can’t just kill it. Okay?”

“No. It isn’t okay.”

She closed her eyes. She didn’t know how to express what she was feeling. It was difficult to admit to it herself. She’d dabbled. She’d used some pretty dark tricks. She’d always told herself it was okay, because she always did it for a good reason. There was always a reason, a cause…a need that she told herself could only be dealt with that way. 

Each time it was easier than the time before. 

Maybe that was why the path to darkness never seemed like it was leading anywhere specifically. Maybe she was on the same path as Bellius and one day she’d find herself ripping a man’s mind apart because it seemed like a good idea. Maybe one day her entire concept of good and evil would be so skewed she didn’t know the difference anymore.

“Dana, you’re nothing like this thing. Nothing.” Dean said grabbing her shoulder.

“I’m not so sure.” She sighed. “He works at the church. Takes human form and helps out there. He was getting there as I was leaving.” She turned to him. “If we do this, there’s no going back, Dad.”

“I know.” 

 

The church wasn’t what Dean was expecting. It was small, cozy even. The windows were warmly lit and there was organ music playing. Dana parked the SUV and sighed. “He’s going to know who we are when we walk in.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as he swept them over the building, then pulled his gun out to check its load.

“You better have something in there stronger than regular bullets.”

“Not my first hunt, Dana.”

“First hunt for an angel, Dad.” 

He bit down his anger. “Stop saying angel. Angels don’t do what that thing did to Sam.”

“According to you angels don’t exist.” She unbuckled her seatbelt. “Do you even know how to kill it?”

Dean cracked his neck and got out of the car. “Put enough bullets in its head, it’ll go down.”

He wasn’t going to be talked out of it. This thing hurt Sam, nearly killed Sam. It was savage, brutal, and it deserved to die…no matter what his bleeding heart daughter had to say. 

She got in front of him and held up her hands. He could feel her doing…something psychically, even if he couldn’t tell what. “That should give us a few minutes before he figures it out.” She opened the door and Dean followed her, the gun held behind his back. 

“Good evening again.” Dean looked up as an older man came toward them. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

“I brought my father to see the place.” Dana glanced at him. She was telling him to stay calm, but he was doing his best not to acknowledge her. “Who’s playing the organ?”

The old man smiled at her. “Isn’t it lovely? That’s our Mr. Bell. He helps out around here. It was broken, he fixed it.” 

Dean’s eyes tracked to the organ. The man sitting there was small, balding, familiar. He started toward him. “Dad.” Dana’s voice was low and dangerous, but he had the man in his sights and it wasn’t getting away.

The music stopped and the man turned, his eyes widening. Dean knew the face, remembered seeing the man at the lodge, in the dining room at dinner, then again…somewhere.

“Oh my goodness.” 

Dean had the gun up and the old priest was flabbergasted. Dana put him down as gently as she could while Dean advanced on the thing at the organ.

It turned, facing Dean head on. “Come to kill me?”

“Give me one reason not to.” Dean said through clenched teeth.

“You are not an evil man. You let him seduce you, you let his evil in…but you are a good man. I saved you from him.”

The anger seethed through Dean until he was sure it had to be pouring out of his pores. Dana was behind him. “You dare call Sam evil?” His hand was shaking.

The man stood. Dana gasped, then took a deep breath and pulled her father against her. Dean felt a wall of sorts go up. Bellius raised an eyebrow. “I may have underestimated you, young lady.”

“I get that a lot.” Dana snapped. “I’m not letting you inside either of us.”

“And you think you can prevent me? I am Bellius. I am not a mere demon, child.” 

“No, you’re worse.” Dean said. He fired a shot, nailing him in the shoulder. Bellius fell back, sat hard on the organ bench.

As he stood back up he shed his human image. A yellow white light radiated from him, his presence.

“Shit, Dad…did you have to piss him off?” Dana hissed, pulling Dean back a step.

“I see that your uncle has corrupted you more than your father. Perhaps I was hasty in leaving you behind.”

“You were hasty all right.” Dean fired off three more shots, hitting him in the stomach and chest.

“Surely you don’t think that…” Bellius sat again, harder, shattering the bench. “What is this?”

“Special treat I cooked up. Figured I wasn’t sure what we were up against, but that right there should put down nearly anything.” 

“Dad…stop.” Dana pushed past him. Bellius tried to get up and reach for her, but she punched him hard. “These won’t kill him.”

“Bet they hurt like a son of a bitch.” Dean said, joining her. Something grabbed him, like a vice around his head, he backed off gasping.

“Shit.” Dana put herself between him and Bellius, cutting the hold. Dean stumbled backward, crashing into the altar rail. There was a struggle…Dana threw a wall between herself and Dean. 

“Dana!” He could see her fighting, but couldn’t feel her. She was in there alone with the thing that ripped Sam to shreds. His little girl. “Dana!”

He’d gotten her into this, in over her head, and she was going to die because of it. Sam would never forgive him. He pulled himself to his feet and ran toward her, smack into the wall, then there was something of a sonic boom, the wall gave, Dana came flying at him and Bellius crumpled to the floor, reverting to his human form.

Dean rushed to her side. “Dana, honey…can you hear me?”

“Not much time.” She tried to sit up, holding her head. “Gotta get him out of here.”

Dean looked at where Bellius lay, his head and chest bleeding. “Chains, Dad. Tight. I can’t hold him down forever. Need to get him out and into a containment…” She shook her head, then focused on him. “Hurry.”

He nodded, then ran for the SUV, coming back with the chains and locks that Sam had packed for a hunt a few months before and never took out of the SUV. Dana lay on the floor near the first pew, cradling her left arm and looking like she was going to pass out any minute. Dean got Bellius wrapped up tight in the chains and dragged him down to the aisle. Dana pulled herself up and laid a hand on the chains, murmuring an incantation until the chains glowed a funny green and then she sighed. 

“That should hold for a while. Get him out to the car. I’ll deal with the priest.”

“Dana, you can barely stand up.”

She nodded. “It’s okay. Sam taught me…a trick. I’ll be fine.”

He frowned at her, obviously not believing her. “Dad, we don’t have time.” 

He nodded and dragged Bellius toward the front of the church. By the time he had Bellius in the back seat under heavy blankets, Dana was coming down the stairs, looking like everything was fine. She tossed him the keys. “You drive, I have to concentrate on keeping him out and confined.”

There was something she wasn’t telling him. He got behind the wheel while she put her phone to her ear. “Hey, Missouri…do you remember that containment thing we worked on last summer? I need you to set one up for me. A big one. Dad and I will be home in about 6 hours. We caught it.”

Dean pulled them out and headed them back to the motel for their things. Six hours if he drove like a madman. Dana’s attention was firmly on the back seat. It only took him a few minutes to get their things and toss them in the back, turn in the key and get them back on the road.

 

The nightmare settled over him, darkness swirling in and tiny mouths chasing skin. It echoed through him without any real form, Sam woke up suddenly, running from the dream and landing on the floor with a thump.

It was quiet, dark. He could feel Ally and Inda sleeping nearby. He was afraid, the memories rolling around in his head were frightening and he wanted his father. 

As quietly as he could, Sam made his way down the stairs and out into the dark woods. It was almost as frightening as his dreams, almost as dark as the closet. There were no demons out there though, he knew that. He pulled his blanket around him and set off down the trail. His father was somewhere out there.

He was cold by the time he found the barrier, and stepped through it. Daddy had said goodbye here. He tried to still his mind and follow the trail, like he had the bird. He stumbled, rolling down a hill. He cried, cold and afraid and slowly picked himself up. 

There was a truck…a tent. Sam licked his lips and went toward them. The sense of _Daddy_ was stronger here. He unzipped the tent and poked his head inside. He was asleep on a cot. Sam crawled inside and zipped the tent back up. It was warm inside, a heater spilling warmth out.

Daddy shifted, opened an eye. “Sam?”

“Daddy.” He sniffed and rubbed a dirty hand over wet cheeks.

“Is something wrong?”

“I had a bad dream.” Sam said. 

“You came all the way down here because of a dream?” Daddy sat up and Sam nodded.

“I was scared.” Now he was a different kind of scared. What if Daddy was angry? “I wanted my Daddy.”

His eyes closed and his arms spread open, inviting Sam into them. Sam didn’t hesitate, just moved closer and let Daddy wrap those arms around him. “What was this dream, Sammy?”

“I was a bad, bad boy and they put me in the closet. I didn’t like the closet, Daddy. I didn’t like _him_.”

Daddy held him, and rocked him like he was little. “I know Sammy, I know. But you weren’t bad, okay? That man who did that to you, he was bad.”

“He said I was evil. Needed to be punished.”

His arms tightened around Sam and he kissed the side of Sam’s head. “He can’t hurt you anymore, okay Sam? Daddy’s got you.”

Sam yawned and nodded, nuzzling against him. “Think you can go back to sleep?”

“Can I stay Daddy? It’s cold outside.”

He chuckled lightly and nodded. “You can stay. Inda and Ally will be missing you in the morning though.”

Sam sat back and nodded. “They’ll come for me.”

“Okay, let’s get you settled.” 

Daddy helped him spread out his blanket on the floor and covered him up before he crawled into his cot. “Night Daddy.”

“Night Sammy.”

Sam closed his eyes and breathed in the warmth. It was good to have a Daddy.

 

Dana was as close to collapse as she’d ever been as they pulled in to the house. Missouri was on the front porch with a cup of coffee and a pissed off expression. Her father pulled them into the garage, much better for unloading prisoners in broad daylight. 

She could already feel the containment field, Its strength flowed out of the whole south side of the garage. Once she’d shored it up, even Bellius wouldn’t be going anywhere.

She sighed heavily and climbed wearily out of the car. Missouri joined them, her expression switching to concern when she got close. “Dana, are you okay?”

Dana rubbed her eyes and nodded. “Tired. Gotta deal with this first.” She waved a hand at the back seat and Missouri nodded. Dean got the door opened and pulled Bellius out. Dana circled the car and poked at the walls of the containment. “This is excellent, Missouri…really top notch.” She made an opening and helped her father drag Bellius inside.

She wanted to run the spell again, to push back her fatigue and deal, but she was set up for some seriously ugly blowback already and didn’t want to risk it. She raised a hand and sealed up the opening, then set about shoring up the field with psychic rebar and cinder blocks. By the time she was done, God himself would have had a time getting out of it.

She turned to say something to her father, but the room didn’t stop spinning when she did. She felt her father reach for her, then the overwhelming crush of darkness and pain.

 

John looked up from the breakfast he was cooking on the camp stove, not surprised to find Ally and Inda approaching. Sam hadn’t come out of the tent yet.

“Coffee?” He held up two cups as they got close enough.

“I take it Samuel made it without getting too hurt or lost.” Ally said, taking her cup.

“Showed up around 2:30. Said he’d had a nightmare.”

Inda nodded. “They have been getting worse.”

“They’ve always been bad.” John said, sipping from his own coffee. “He’s still asleep.”

Ally smiled. “No, he’s just hiding. Afraid we’ll be angry with him.”

“Well, breakfast is almost ready. Why don’t you two have a seat?”

Inda frowned at him. “You made us breakfast?”

“I figured you’d be down just as soon as you knew Sam was missing…figured a meal together wouldn’t hurt.” John chuckled. “You two sit, I’ll get Sammy.”

John went to the tent, ducking inside. Sam was sitting, wrapped up in his blanket. “Hey, kiddo. Breakfast is almost ready.”

“You’re going to make me go back.”

John spared a glance over his shoulder, then stepped all the way into the tent. “You don’t want to go back?”

Sam chewed on his lip for a minute. “I don’t want to remember more…not yet. I want to be with you. I want to go fishing and stuff. I don’t like the other stuff. I don’t like remembering.”

John nodded. He could completely understand that. “You’re the one who told me that those memories are a part of who you are.”

Sam looked up at him, his eyes big and green. “Just for now, Daddy. Just for today? Can it just be you and me today? Tomorrow. I’ll go back tomorrow.”

John brushed a hand over his cheek and nodded. “I’ll tell you what. Come out and eat breakfast with us and we’ll talk to Inda and Ally and see what they think.”

“Okay.” Sam said after a few minutes of thinking about it. “Okay, Daddy.”

“Good boy.” John took his hand and led Sam out. “You sit here Sam. I’ll get you some breakfast.”

“Good morning Samuel.” Ally said softly.

Sam looked shy, covering his lower face with his blanket. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“We weren’t scared, Samuel.” Inda said. “Concerned that you might have gotten hurt, but not scared.”

“I fell down the hill.” Sam offered. “Got my knees muddy.” He pulled the blanket away to show them his knees.

John handed Sam a plate and fork, then Ally and Inda. “Sam here is wondering if it would be okay if he took a break today, if he and I went fishing and hung out together.” John said as he sat on the tailgate and dug into his own plate.

Ally raised an eyebrow at Sam. “Is this true, Samuel?”

Sam blushed, but nodded. “I just want my Daddy today.”

Inda and Ally seemed to communicate psychically…John had seen it enough between Sam and Dana and Sam and Dean that he knew the signs. “Are you equipped for this?” Inda asked John after a few minutes. 

John nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. I can bring him up to you in the morning.”

“Very well then.” Ally smiled at Sam.

“Really? I mean really, really?”

John chuckled at how much he sounded like Dana. 

“Yes, Samuel, really. You have worked hard and deserve a day of rest.”

Sam beamed, his smile wide and bright. “Eat up Sam, you’re going to need it. We’ll gear up and head out to fish when you’re done.” 

John watched him shovel eggs and sausage into his mouth. He hadn’t expected this when he’d headed out to watch over him. Hadn’t expected to get this…how could he? He sighed and sipped his coffee, thankful for each moment of the next twenty-four hours.

 

“What in hell were you thinking, boy?”

Missouri’s voice in a hushed, angry whisper. It reverberated around in Dana’s skull. “No, obviously you weren’t thinking at all. I should walk out of this house and never come back. If it weren’t for that little girl I would. Can’t leave her here with the likes of you.”

“Not little.” Dana grumbled, pulling herself up from the pit of burning lava that was her insides into the blazing heat of Missouri’s anger, her father’s shame and the industrial strength blowback of all the nasty shit she’d pulled to get them to safety.

There was a cool cloth and Missouri’s presence soothing across hers. “Shh…easy, girl. You took one wicked fall…on top of what I imagine is some nasty recoil.”

“Didn’t want to.” Dana mumbled. “Didn’t want to, ‘Souri.”

“I know baby girl. I know. You should rest. Your Daddy’s getting you something for the pain.”

She’d had to pull out some nasty tricks to knock Bellius down after he’d dug his claws into her shields and started pulling on them. And she’d used Sam’s spell to keep going, only it wore off too fast because she didn’t have anything to anchor it with. She’d never tell her father how close she came to losing. She’d never let them find out that Bellius had shredded her first defenses like they were made out of spun sugar…or that the pain had been unbelievable.

She only knew that, when push came to shove, she hadn’t hesitated to throw the dark. Despite everything she told her father, despite her own fears. It seemed hard to believe that only a year before she’d worried about losing Sam to the darkness…and now…

Dana groaned, the thinking too much with her stomach feeling like jello and her head too big and hot and Missouri’s cold cloth blazing on her forehead.

“Bellius…got to…” It was unclear what they had to do, only that something had to be done.

Missouri pushed her back and wiped over her face. “Not now you don’t. That thing is tucked in safe and sound, ain’t going no where. You sleep.”

Dana didn’t think anything was safe and sound, not while there was an angel in the garage, trapped in some tricky barriers, not while her head hurt like it did…not when she was afraid of herself for the first time in her life.

 

John found his face hurting by about one o’clock in the afternoon. His cheeks ached from smiling. Sam was like a great big little boy. His joy at everything from digging up worms to the way the fish wriggled on the end of the line was more than he’d ever imagined. 

“You hungry Sammy?”

Sam turned to him, his face suddenly gone serious. “Daddy?”

“What is it?”

He took a deep breath. “Ally calls me Samuel.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“You don’t. It’s always Sam or Sammy.”

John nodded. “Is that okay?”

Sam seemed to think about it. “I like when you call me Sammy.”

John smiled again. “Sammy it is. You hungry?”

“Starving!”

“I’ve got sandwiches and chips. John dragged the cooler closer and pulled out the sandwiches he’d thrown together before leaving camp. “Peanut Butter and Jelly or turkey?”

“Peanut butter!” 

John tossed him the peanut butter and a bag of chips. If anyone had ever told him he’d find so much happiness just watching his son eat a sandwich on the side of a stream in the middle of nowhere, John would have thought they were crazy.

Sam’s pole twitched and he lurched for it, dropping his sandwich. “I got one!” John lunged for him, got a hand on his belt just as Sam would have gone face first into the water. Sam pulled and John held on and a few minutes later, Sam had a wriggling fish in his lap.

“That may be the biggest one yet, Sammy.” John said, helping him get the fish off the hook and into the bucket with the two others they’d caught. “Looks like a good dinner.”

 

“Dana, honey.” Dean rubbed a hand over her forehead and she rolled deeper into her pillow. “Come on, you need to eat something.”

She groaned and tried to pull the blanket over her head. “Dana. Sit up.”

Not that he blamed her. He remembered his own bout with the after effects of his dark spell, and according to Missouri, what she’d done was far worse. But Missouri had given him instructions to make sure Dana ate a good solid meal, and Missouri was angry enough with him, he didn’t want to risk making it worse.

“Where’s Missouri?” Dana asked through the blanket. 

“In the garage, keeping an eye on our prisoner.”

Dana sat up grudgingly, groaning. Dean handed her the sunglasses with a wry smile. “I kept it light, some soup and crackers, a little tea.”

She groaned again and pulled away. “What time is it?”

“Nearly five.”

She nodded and took the tea. “Need another few hours. Then I can take over.”

“No, she said you should sleep the night. She said she was fine.”

Dana squinted at him. “Since when do you listen to her so good?”

“She told me Dana.” Dean dropped his gaze, shame coloring his face.

“Told you what?” Her voice was like ice.

He sighed and collapsed into the chair beside her bed. “She…showed me.”

Missouri hadn’t been gentle, forced him to look at the damage in Dana’s mind. Told him it was her sheer force of will that subdued the likes of Bellius. Showed him what Dana had done…what she’d been forced to do, to save his sorry ass because he wouldn’t listen to her.

She paled even further. “She had no business.” Dana cradled the cup to her. “I did what I had to. It had to be done.”

Dean shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking Dana. I forced you into that. I’m sorry.”

“Not so much.” She sipped at her tea and huddled under her blanket. “It…was almost…I knew what to do and I did it. Didn’t matter if it was black as sin itself Daddy. I just did it.”

She looked miserable. “We aren’t all that different.”

He knew she meant Bellius. Missouri had already pointed it out to him. He shook his head. “No, honey, you’re nothing like him.”

“He was nothing like him once too Dad. He was a goddamn angel…and look at him now. He’s…insane.” She shuddered, closed her eyes. “I saw…he’s all twisted up inside.”

 

“Sammy, hold the stick higher, you’ll burn it.”

“Like this Daddy?” Sam moved his stick and its precariously dangling marshmallow up a little higher in the flames.

“Just like that. And turn it slowly, don’t want to cook just one side.” John laid out graham crackers and bits of chocolate while Sam roasted his marshmallow. He hadn’t wanted to waste time with a run to town, but when Sam told him he’d never been camping or roasted marshmallows, there really wasn’t any choice.

Sam’s face was already a sticky mess from his first marshmallow, which John had roasted for him to show him how it was done. “Okay, that looks good, bring it here.” 

Sam came toward him, all concentration on the end of his stick. “Set it down on the chocolate.” John lifted the other graham cracker and smooshed it down over the marshmallow, then lifted the s’more and handed it to Sam. “Go on. Try it.”

He eyed it suspiciously before tentatively opening his mouth and trying to find a way to bite it. Eventually he just bit down, marshmallow squirting out the sides and his eyes going wide. 

“Daddy!” he exclaimed around a mouthful of s’more. “It’s really, really good!”

John laughed and nodded. “Told you you’d like it.”

John watched him eat with a joy he’d never experienced from Sam. They’d fried up the fish they caught for dinner, Sam marveling repeatedly that you could do that…catch a fish and eat it. John had never seen him eat the way he had since breakfast, like there was a hole inside him he couldn’t fill up. 

“Can I have another one?”

“Sure. Want help?”

Sam shook his head and speared a marshmallow on the end of his stick. “I got it Daddy. You sit and watch.”

So John did. He sat in his chair and watched his youngest son roast marshmallows and wondered if his oldest son had forgiven them yet. If Dean could only see Sam, he would. No doubt about it.

 

Dana shuffled out to the garage, cradling a cup of coffee and wishing that her head would go back to its normal size. Her father was asleep and it was still dark outside. 

Missouri looked up as Dana closed the door. “You should be resting.”

Dana sniffled a little and crinkled her nose. “I’m fine, you need a break.”

“You aren’t in any shape, young lady.”

“My mess, Missouri. I’ll handle it.” Dana shuffled closer. Bellius was awake, still encased in her enchanted chains and watching them.

“This is your father’s mess, not yours.”

Dana yawned and nodded. “He can’t handle it, so it’s mine.”

“That’s exactly my point. He should never have put you in that position.”

“I went willingly, Missouri.” She sighed. “I don’t know what to do.” She sank into the lawn chair and looked up at Missouri. “We can’t…kill it.” She gestured vaguely at Bellius. “He’s…no demon.”

Missouri sat next to her in the other chair and patted her hand. “He’s no demon, but he ain’t rightly an angel anymore either.”

Dana yawned, watching him watch her. “He’s not evil…he’s done evil things. There’s a difference.”

“Yes, there is.” Missouri agreed.

“So what do I do?” Dana looked at Missouri for an answer, but there wasn’t one. “I found a…ritual, like an exorcism. It would send him to hell. But maybe that’s worse than just killing it.” She sighed. “He’d only get darker and darker…” She sighed again. “Like me.”

She’d dreamed, even with the drugs in her, maybe because of the drugs in her, of falling and falling and when she finally landed she’d turned…dark and evil, worse than Sam had ever been. She’d dreamed of killing…of swimming in the blood of her victims.

“Oh, Dana honey, you’re not evil either. You maybe get mixed up…but you’ve got a good soul.”

Dana shook her head. “Bellius thought that too, once.” She stood and took a few steps toward the containment. “It was just the one time, for a good cause. Saved a soul. The second time was easier. For less reason.” She cocked her head. Bellius mimicked the movement. “Always for the good of someone…always seemed like the right thing. Didn’t understand why it tarnished him…unfair…trying to help…”

She pulled back, suddenly realizing he was sucking her in. She shook her head and turned to Missouri. “Sound familiar?”

“He did a number on you, tore you up. You need to get some distance.”

Dana lifted a hand to her head. It was nothing like what Sam went through, but it was vicious. “Said Sam corrupted me, that I deserved the same…” Maybe more. After all Sam was who he was because of what was done to him. She was who she was by choice. She shook her head. “We should wait for Sam. Let him decide.”

“Your daddy isn’t going to like that.”

“He doesn’t have to. My mess, my decision.”

 

Morning came far too early. John barely slept, laying awake watching Sam sleep. There were no nightmares, no restlessness. He slept like a child. When the birds started their morning calls, Sam shifted, stretched and sat up, smiling brightly. “Daddy.”

“Morning Sammy. You sleep okay?”

“I slept good. I dreamed about us fishing and catching the biggest fish…and taking it home to Dean.”

“You dreamed about Dean?”

Sam nodded. “He misses us. Wants us to come home.”

“I bet he does.” John said, ruffling his hair.

“I have to finish remembering before we can go, don’t I?” Sam asked, a little pout on his face.

“Yes, Sammy, I’m afraid you do.”

“I know, sort of, what’s there. I mean, if I’m really still I can feel _him_ and sort of remember. I know I won’t like it.”

John nodded. “I know, Sammy. I only know parts of what happened to you, and I don’t like it at all.”

“I love Dean.” Sam said, though his face scrunched up, like the thought confused him.

“And he loves you, more than life itself.” John responded. His heart clenched remembering Dean saying goodbye, how Dean just ceased being Dean when he thought Sam was going to die.

“I want to see Dean.” He pulled his long legs out of the sleeping bag. “I should go to Ally and Inda.” 

John drew in a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll walk with you.”

Sam put his shoes on and climbed out of the tent, looking around the camp like he wanted to remember it.

As they neared the barrier, Sam stopped, a sudden look of panic on his face. “You won’t leave, right Daddy? You’ll still be here.”

“Not going anywhere without you Sammy.” John comforted. 

“Okay.” 

The barrier thinned and Ally stepped through, all smiles and gentle happiness. “How was your day, Samuel?”

“We caught fish and ate them, and we had marshmallows. It was fun.”

“I am glad.”

“I’m ready now.” Sam said, all seriousness. “I miss my Dean and I want to get better so I can go home.”

She smiled and held out her hand. “I am glad for that also, Samuel.”

Sam hugged John tight before he took her hand. “I’ll see you soon Daddy.”

“I’ll be here, Sammy!” John called after him as they disappeared behind the barrier. “I’ll be right here.”

 

“You know what he was. You know he didn’t deserve it.”

Dana shook her head, turned her face away. “I’m not listening to you.”

“You know what you’re becoming, because of him. Let me help you, cleanse you. You could be pure again.”

She raised a hand and the containment field constricted, pressing in against him. “I’m not letting you into my head.”

_Maybe I’m already there._

Her head whipped around and he laughed. She slammed up the walls and guards that Sam had helped her develop. The front line defenses were still down after he’d ripped through them, but that didn’t mean she was completely defenseless.

Bellius had managed to disable the chains and he paced the small space left to him, two steps one way and two steps back. “You feel sorry for me. Sorry for yourself…you think you’re like me.”

“Shut up, or I’ll put you down again.” Dana scooted her chair back away from it.

“Tarnished, not pure, not perfect…not quite unholy, not bad enough to send to hell…unwanted, unloved.”

Dana raised her head. That was one thing she knew was wrong. She was loved and wanted. “You wouldn’t know what love was if it hit you between the eyes. Love is what changed Sam, what made him a man worthy of the gifts he had. Love has the power to do that.”

“Love is nothing but brain chemicals on overload.” Bellius said. “What do I need with love?”

“What you need is to shut up and leave Dana be.” Missouri said suddenly appearing behind Dana. She handed Dana a cup of coffee. “My turn. You go get some breakfast, your daddy’s in there making waffles.”

To Dana’s surprise, Bellius shut up and retreated to the back wall, slumping down to the floor. “How’d you do that?” Dana asked, sipping at the coffee.

“I know me a thing or two about angels, Dana. Especially them fallen ones. Go on now.”

Dana kissed her cheek and withdrew to the house where she was indeed greeted with the smell of waffles and maple syrup…the real stuff. Dean looked up and smiled as she came into the dining room. “Well look at you. Almost look like my father again.” Dana said as he put a plate of waffles on the table.

“Very funny young lady.”

“I take it you slept?” 

He nodded and sat beside her. “Better than I have in a while.”

“Good.” Dana cut into her waffle and took a bite. 

“How are you?”

Dana looked up. She could feel his concern, fear…his anger seemed to have washed away. “I’m…dealing.” The blowback was lingering, but not debilitating, and she was already working at repairing the damage Bellius had caused.

“Missouri said you want to wait for Sam before you decide how to deal with it.”

She nodded, watching him closely. “Only fair, right? He’s the one who was hurt the most.”

Dean nodded slowly. “If you think it’s best.”

She squinted at him, wondering what had changed. “Okay.” She took another bite then decided they should talk about it. “If we do decide to kill it, we need to know what we’re doing. I don’t want to risk another attempt like at the church.”

“Missouri pointed me to some references. I’ll be ready.”

She nodded and sipped at her coffee. “There’s also the idea of sending him to hell. I don’t like it, but if we can’t kill it…it’s a choice.”

“Let’s just get through the next few days and see what our options are.” Dean patted her hand. She wanted to ask him what had changed, but she ate her waffles instead, trusting that Missouri had finally beaten some sense into his thick skull.

 

Sam tossed in the throws of the nightmare, reliving memories of bad days and worse nights. Some part of himself, the part that was separate and apart, tried to calm him, reassure him, but there was no calming him, or the gifts that had begun to manifest more strongly.

He was aware of Ally in the room, but only vaguely, distantly. He wanted to reach for her, but he was behind the walls. The nightmare was a trap, he’d been stuck inside it forever. Even Ally couldn’t lead his younger self free of it.

“Daddy.”

He heard himself, felt the craving for strong arms. Then he felt them.

“Sammy…Sammy….Daddy’s here.”

He was wrenched up out of the dreams and threw himself into his father’s arms, sobbing, his entire being shaking. All around him things crashed to the ground, but he was only vaguely aware of it. Daddy’s arms were around him and he was safe. Safe.

Sam panted and slowly calmed. They shifted so that Sam was all but in his father’s lap. He lifted a tear streaked face and his father kissed over his cheeks, whispering to him. “Daddy’s right here, Sammy.”

“I couldn’t find my way out, Daddy. They trapped me and it was dark and he hurt me…kept hurting me.” 

“I know Sammy, but you’re okay now, you’re safe with me.”

Sam buried his face in his neck, held on to him and tried to regulate his breathing. Sam was distantly aware of Ally touching his father’s shoulder and his father’s rumbling voice. “I’m not leaving him.”

He clung to his father, big and strong. In his mind he knew he wasn’t the gangly, skinny thirteen year old that all those bad, bad things had happened to, but the memories were fresh and the wounds deep. It took some time for him to find the power to sit up on his own. He blinked, realizing he was still in his bedroom in the sanctuary, which meant Inda or Ally had gone and brought his father in.

“Thank you.” He said it to Ally who nodded. 

“I thought it wise when I couldn’t rouse you.”

“I got stuck. Like they were real.” He rubbed his head, remembering the way the demons had circled around him, made it so he couldn’t escape his dream, the same way they had when it actually happened.

“I know Samuel, I am very sorry.” She touched his head, and he could feel her thoughts as well. He felt some of her concern. “The trauma was worse than I understood. We will be more careful next time.”

Sam groaned and curled into his father. He wasn’t ready to think about next time. Inda was at the top of the stairs. “Is he well?”

“Well enough. Though we will need to sweep the room clean. The kinetic energy released with his fear was potent.”

“He’s never floated stuff before.” His father’s arms were curled around him protectively.

Ally nodded. “I feel there will be much he can do now that he never did before. We will give you both some time to recover, and we can eat supper when you are both ready.”

“I’m sorry Daddy.” Sam said, shifting away a little, trying to be the strong willed boy he knew he had been once. 

He shook his head. “No, it isn’t your fault, Sammy. I’m happy you wanted me, happy I could help.”

Sam moved off his lap, but held on to his hand. “I knew if you were here I’d be okay.” He licked his lips. “I knew you’d take good care of me.”

“Always, Sammy.”

Everything had shifted in the last two days. He was so much older, remembered so much more. He could read the emotion coming off his father with surprising ease, and his foremost thoughts. He was worried about Sam…about Dean and Dana. Sam squinted at him, surprised when his father’s eyes lifted and seemed to know what he was doing.

“Dana…I know her?” Sam asked, squirming a little.

His father nodded. “Yes, Sammy, you do.”

“She’s…Dean’s little girl.”

He smiled. “Yes.”

“I don’t mean to stick my nose in.” Sam gestured vaguely at his head. “Sometimes it just happens and I don’t mean it.”

“It’s okay, Sammy. You just have to use it responsibly.”

He squirmed a little. Ally had told him the same thing. “I’m going to try.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you wash your face and I’ll go down and see if I can help with supper.”

 

John got as far as the bottom of the stairs before he sat and lowered his head into his hands. Ally’s hands touched the top of his head. “It only gets worse from here.” John said. “Right now it’s physical abuse and oral sex. At fourteen it evolved. By sixteen it was gang rape by demons. How is he going to handle that?”

“We will work with him.”

“What if it isn’t enough?” He was wrung out from the physical effort of getting through the psychic energy Sam had been slamming into the room on top of the run up from camp, and the emotional toll of seeing Sam like that.

“We are experienced with trauma like Samuel’s. Now that we know how deep the damage runs we will be able to assist his assimilation of those memories.”

“I wish…I don’t know what I wish anymore.” 

“You are tired.”

John nodded. “My boys have always been exhausting.” He smiled as he lifted his head. “I’m fine. I promised Dean I’d watch out for him. I told you I’d father him. I aim to keep my word.”

She smiled at him softly. “Samuel is lucky to have family so devoted to his well being. Come, there is food prepared.”

 

John helped tuck Sam into bed, kissing his forehead as he drifted off to sleep, after fighting the notion for a long time. It was well after midnight. At least an hour in there were no dreams. 

He sighed and headed down the stairs. Inda met him at the door. “I was hoping I might speak with you, Mr. Winchester.”

“John, please.”

“John.”

“Of course.” He followed Inda out onto the porch.

“This is highly unusual, our inviting you here.”

“So I gathered.”

Inda turned his face up to the stars. “Then, Samuel is a highly unusual man.”

John nodded. “That he is.”

“You have not always felt this way about him.”

John looked at him, then off into the trees. “No, I haven’t. When I first found him again, he…he was not a good man. He’d been corrupted by those people who took him. It took a long time for him to earn my trust.”

“And yet now you love him as though he has lived his whole life with you.”

It wasn’t a question. John inhaled the cool night air. “As far as I’m concerned, his life began when he came with us. If I could take away all of the hell he went through, I would. But he wouldn’t be the man my son loves, he wouldn’t be our Sam.”

“I will be honest with you, John.” Inda turned to him. “I was not certain when Missouri brought Samuel to us. I was not certain of the man he would be when this is over, but I have seen his struggle, and I have seen him fight free of those things that once pulled him under. I can not guarantee that he will ever be whole again, and I feared that restoring his gifts to him would unleash an unspeakable being on the world. There is a reason he was kept so tightly controlled.”

“The demon that took him was afraid of him.” John said. “Afraid that Sam would destroy him.”

“With good reason. Sam has gifts I have seldom seen, and I have worked with some of the most gifted in the world.”

“You think he’s something, you should see my granddaughter.”

Inda actually smiled at him. “I would find that meeting very enjoyable, if what I have read of her from Samuel is any indication. Perhaps she can come to visit us one day.”

John chuckled, then yawned. “I should head down.”

“I would prefer you stay inside the wards tonight. In fact, I think I would prefer you stay inside them for the next few nights. I will offer you the couch for the night. In the morning, we will move your camp within the second barrier.”

“I don’t want to interfere.”

Inda shook his head. “To my amazement, your presence is less interfering than I would have predicted. Indeed, it seems Samuel needs you close.”

“Well, if you put it that way.”

 

Sam sat in his robes on the picnic table, holding a tennis ball in the air above his palm. He was sweating lightly, his concentration intense, despite the thoughts and images flying at him from Ally and Inda. He was going to break his record.

_Do not let your pride derail you._

He took a deep breath, changed the spin on the ball to a more clockwise rotation. Inda was pushing strongly on his defenses. Sam pushed back, keeping a tendril of attention on his spinning ball, and forgetting that Ally was as much of a threat. 

The ball went flying away from him, almost into Ally’s hand before he snapped his attention back and pulled it to him. The pressure stopped, Inda actually looked winded. 

“Very good Samuel.”

He wiped his face on his sleeve. “It felt good. I had a lot more control.”

“You still seem to have issues with defending against more than one of us.” Inda said, throwing him a towel. “We have a few techniques we will teach you that will help.”

“Show me.” 

Ally shook her head and rested a hand on his knee. “Not today, Samuel. You have stretched enough for today. You should rest, the afternoon’s session will be working on your internal defenses again.”

Sam groaned and moved to get off the table. “It’s going to be bad.” He knew what was coming, in the sense that he understood the facts, but the memories came live and in color, so to speak. He had achieved the mental and emotional equivalent of sixteen. Basically what she was telling him was that he was about to re-live the events that had left his right side so permanently altered.

“Your father will be here for it.” Inda said. “I have already spoken with him.”

Sam nodded. “I should sleep then.”

 

John had spent the morning hiking down to the road where he could get a cell signal. He vacillated, then called the house. He was only a little surprised when it was Dean who answered. “About time you were functional.”

“Hello to you too Dad. How’s Sam?”

“He’s doing really well. I figured you’d be getting anxious to know.”

“Tried calling a couple of times.”

“It’s about a five mile hike to get a signal.”

“How much longer?”

“Don’t know. A while.” John licked his lips. “You’d be so proud, Dean. He’s working really hard…He’s making a lot of progress.”

“What are they doing to him?”

“It’s hard to describe.”

“How close can you get?”

He wanted to tell Dean the truth, but he was afraid it would only hurt him to know John was there, holding Sam while he cried while Dean was miles and miles away. “Close enough.”

They were both quiet for a minute. “Dana’s going to be sorry she missed you.”

“She in class?”

“Yeah. Won’t be here until dinner.”

“Tell her I said hello and hug her for me.”

“I will.” Dean cleared his throat and John could almost imagine him scratching his head. “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Bring him home to me?”

“I will Dean.” John hung up the phone and took a deep breath. Obviously Dean had gotten his anger under control and Dana had started school. All good things. He turned back the way he had come and headed back to the sanctuary. He’d promised to be there for the afternoon session.

Sam had started acting like a teenager, moody and sensitive, though when they were alone, he still called John ‘Daddy’. He was quiet and determined. He also asked a lot more questions. Harder questions. Things about Dean and Dana, things about Mary.

Sometimes it was exhausting just being with him. As he turned around and started the hike back, John imagined that it would only become harder now, at least until Sam was able to re-integrate himself.

Seeing the powers unleashed almost made John glad Sam hadn’t had use of them fully when he first met Dean. Sam might have been unstoppable. Sam might never have had the opportunity to change.

Now though…now John was watching his boy become a man right before his eyes. As he neared the sanctuary, he could smell lunch cooking. Inda had told him that he would get an hour or so alone with Sam before they started the afternoon session, to help him prepare. 

Ally smiled as he came into the kitchen. Sam seemed sullen and withdrawn, hunkered down over his soup. 

“Did you have a nice hike, John?” Inda asked as he joined them.

“Had to go check in with my other son, make sure everything is okay back home.”

Sam’s head came up. “Dean? You spoke to Dean?”

“Yes, he misses you.” He nodded thanks to Ally who set a bowl of soup in front of him.

“And, is everything okay?” Inda asked as John lifted his spoon.

“I think so. Dean sounded more like himself.” John watched Sam go back to his soup. “Dana started school.”

“So Dean’s all alone?” Sam asked from the other end of the table, his face sour.

“Not totally, he’s got the dogs. And Dana’s coming by every evening.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t seem all that convinced. He pushed his chair back and stood. “I’m not really hungry. I’m going to stretch my legs.”

John sighed as the door closed behind him.

“He’s angry.” Ally said as she sat. 

“Frustrated.” Inda corrected. “He knows what is coming, and he wants to go home. He still tires quickly and his control is still shaky.” 

“He must control his anger.” Ally said. “Or he will be vulnerable.”

“Maybe I’ll go talk to him.” John stood, following Sam out onto the porch. “Hey, you okay Sammy?”

He nodded tightly, but otherwise didn’t move. He sighed, staring out into the woods. “I’m…scared Daddy.” He said it softly, stiffened as John touched him.

“Scared of what?”

“Me.” He inhaled deeply. “Can we…walk or something? I don’t want to be here right now.”

“Yeah, sure.” John stepped off the porch and Sam followed, his hands in his pockets. They walked in silence a ways before Sam stopped. John turned to look at him.

“What if I can’t handle it?”

“Handle what Sammy?”

“It. Me. What if it’s too much? What if…I can’t control it? What if I just lose control?”

“You won’t.” Of course, they were empty words, and they both knew it. John wasn’t even sure what all of Sam’s powers were.

Sam turned and shook his head. “It scares me. There’s all of this stuff inside me…and I’m angry. I’m so angry Daddy.”

That John understood. He reached out for Sam. Pulled him into a hug. “I know Sammy, I know. You have every right to be angry. The things that have been done to you…the things that have happened.”

“Ally says I need to control it, not let it control me.”

“I say, you need to let it out.” John said as Sam pulled away.

“Let it out?”

John nodded. “Yeah, pick a target, and just release it. Anger isn’t something you keep inside, Sammy. If you do, it will eat you alive.” He scanned the area around them, then pointed at a dead tree ahead of them. “Use that.”

He’d seen Dana when she had to release the pent up emotional energy caused by the cascade of Sam’s memories inside her. She blown up a few trees. It was safer than the mirrors and furniture Sam had exploded during the blowback and seizures.

Sam looked at him like he wasn’t sure. John just stepped back and nodded to him. “Go on.”

Sam frowned, then turned to the tree. He stared at it for a long time, then his eyes closed, and when they opened, his face was filled with fury.

Sam screamed, unleashing a blast of psychic energy that even John could feel. In the distance, the dead tree cracked, split lengthwise and crashed to the ground. Sam sagged a little, then sank to his knees, panting.

“Feel better?”

Sam grinned as he nodded. “Much.”

“Ready to head back?”

John helped him back to his feet. Instead of heading back up the path, Sam engulfed John in his arms, hugging him tightly. “I’m glad you’re here, Daddy.”

“I’m glad too Sammy.”

 

_Relax Samuel, float._

Floating wasn’t as easy as it had been. Relaxing was harder, knowing what was coming. Sam blew out slowly, blanking out his mind. He poked at the healing blob and felt it ripple through him, bringing its own kind of peace. He centered. Took his time clearing his mind, tidying up and putting order to his mind-space. 

Ally moved in when he was done and together they built up a container, a place to store the pain, so that the memories didn’t overwhelm him and trap him again. Inda joined them last, laying down a heavy blanket to suppress Sam’s powers enough that no one got hurt.

Sam could feel the strong, oak-like presence of his father nearby. A part of him latched onto that, anchoring himself as Ally opened up the doors that separated him from the parts of himself he wasn’t ready for. 

It was different this time, staring in at himself. He was closer now, and the ‘him’ inside that vault passed across the packets of memory. They were black balls of heaviness, nothing pleasant to be found among them. 

Sam could feel his body breathing heavily, his heart racing. The doors closed and he was no longer two people in one body. He was laying in a bed of soft comfort, buoyed by the earliest memories, drawn up out of his past…the feelings of Mom and Daddy and Brother, holding him, making him feel safe.

_Shall I begin?_ Ally asked, brushing against him.

_I will._ Sam’s hand closed over one of the balls, squeezing it, his thumb pressing in on the memory. It burst over him, his sixteenth birthday, a beating from an older student at school. Black eyes and a broken nose. He reached for another, wanting to get it over with. One by one they flowed over him, pressing into him until he was panting heavily, the last one under his hand. He reached for John, for the strength only he seemed to be able to provide.

His body went rigid as he broke the last ball open. He was screaming, but didn’t hear it. He could only hear the roar of pain, the voices of the Harriers that were ripping into his body. His right side was ablaze with pain and fire and the feeling of blood, of flesh raw and broken. 

He fought to release his muscles, to submit…the same as he had all those years before…let go of the fight so that it would end. Sam rolled to his left side, felt his head landing in a lap, warmth, comfort.

It wasn’t enough, but it was more than he’d had the first time. The cold marble floor retreated, and Sam wrapped his arms around the body of his father, the man who would have done anything to protect him from this if he could, and would hold him and help him because he couldn’t.

The rapid rush of memory retreated, leaving him weak and shaken, his body stiff and hurting as if the violence had only just ended. He drew in a shaking breath and poked at the healing power.

_Very good Samuel. Very good._ Ally’s psychic voice was soothing, her energy smoothing the edges, easing the reverberating pain and shoring up the container holding it. _Rest now._

He felt Inda and Ally both retreat and clung to his father. “Stay with me Daddy.” Sam whispered as he let himself drop closer to sleep.

A large hand soothed over his head. “Always Sammy.”

 

Dean watched until Dana was asleep, then went back to the kitchen. He had dinner cooking and every surface in the kitchen was covered in books. Somewhere in one of these was the answer…the way to kill the motherfucking son of a bitch.

He’d let Dana and Missouri both think he intended to wait for Sam, but he had no intention of letting that thing near Sam again. He stirred the sauce and checked his pasta, then went back to the book he’d been looking through when he heard the door.

It was an old volume, Catholic in origin. It spoke about angels sent to earth to learn lessons. There was a lot of nonsense in a lot of books about hawthorn berries and demon spit and half a dozen other shitty bits of folklore. This however was getting closer to the truth.

Not that he was all that keen to call upon Pagan gods for help…but it that’s what it took…that’s what it took. There was a reference to a book with a ritual that could strip an angel of its powers, make it human.

Dean could kill it if it were human. He smiled at the thought. All he had to do now was find yet another book.

 

“Very good, Samuel.” Ally murmured beside him.

Sam deflected yet another attack from Inda with relative ease. He felt Inda reach for the outside of his shields and shuffled them so that he couldn’t get a grip on them, then did the mental equivalent of a roll to end up out of his reach.

For the first time it was Inda who broke off the exercise, panting and sweating. Sam sank gratefully onto the porch, grinning. “That was fun.”

“Speak for yourself.” Inda said. “You are quite strong, Samuel. I am most impressed with your progress.”

“I’m not ready. Not yet.”

Inda wiped his face with a towel and squatted down in front of Sam. “Perhaps, but you can not stay here forever.”

Sam nodded, the grin slipping away.

“It is natural to fear, Samuel.” Ally said, touching his shoulder. “After all you have been through.”

There was a lot to be afraid of. He’d seen so much, done so much. He knew his father was getting anxious to get back…and part of him was too. They’d finished the re-integration two days before…his memories and gifts were whole again…in fact more so than they’d ever been. His mind was an ordered, neat place. His shields were stronger than ever. The power at his disposal was nearly dizzying. 

In fact, he was pretty certain that if he reached out for Dana, he’d find her…maybe even Dean. Sam licked his lips, exhaled slowly. “I think I should meditate a while.”

“As you wish.” 

They withdrew and left Sam alone in the quiet, still afternoon. He sighed and settled himself. The last memories were still fresh, the afternoon of the attack, Dean’s voice telling him to go to their mother, to Michael. Sam inhaled and tried to blank his mind.

He and Aristotle had been out walking when he felt it. Just like Dana had described it. Murk, darkness, like a psychic stench. At first he couldn’t place it, then it got closer and Aristotle’s fur stood up. The man hadn’t seemed like much, but the way he looked at him gave Sam chills.

A block from home it attacked. They ran. Sam got Aristotle off her leash and sent her running, hoping she’d get clear, and then he turned to face the attacker. 

Sam shivered, remembering the way it sliced through his shields like they weren’t even there. He took a deep breath and centered himself. He needed to be able to look at the memory without it shredding him. He walked through the cleansing and grounding ritual twice, then pulled it back up. 

He’d been trying to get to the house, to the passive wards that protected the house, but once he’d felt the intrusion of that mind, he’d known it would be useless. The generic wards of protection wouldn’t hinder it.

It had come at him single-mindedly, ripping through everything in search of something. It had nearly gotten to it before Sam realized what it was the thing wanted. He’d grabbed it and buried it deep, ripping his own mind up in his wake to slow the thing down.

He hadn’t even been fully aware of the physical battle that echoed the psychic one. He’d fought like hell though. He could see himself through Dean’s eyes when Dean found him, the blood loss alone might have killed him. 

_Unclean. Unworthy. Dirty. Evil. Sinner._

The words whispered around him, circling his center. Insidious. He blasted them with white light and they dissipated. It wasn’t like any demon he’d ever faced, determined that Sam should not have the good things in his life because of his past, like Sam’s own guilt and self-conflict had been brought to life. 

Sam went down fighting, praying that the thing would be content with ending him, and leave Dean and Dana alone. He’d inflicted some damage of his own, but his fight was mostly defensive. He had been sure he was dead, grateful Dean had given him the grace to pass over…until he felt the psychic nuclear bomb go off and felt Dana rushing to put things back together.

Sam breathed in deep, the scent of pine trees and earth. The smell was so different than anything in his life, simpler, cleaner. He re-centered, letting go of the memory and concentrating on making his mind still and calm. 

He was strong. He was healed. He opened his eyes to find his father sitting in front of him. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be meditating also. After a few seconds, John opened his eyes, smiling through the scruff of weeks without shaving.

“I brought you something.”

Sam cocked his head as John’s hand opened. On it rested a scrap of pink blanket and a silver ring. Sam’s smile spread over his face. “I’d forgotten.” He breathed the words, didn’t quite reach for them. 

“You bought this blanket for Dana when she was about nine months old. She carried it around until it was rags. Kept a piece of it in her backpack until she was twelve.” He put the scrap in Sam’s hand. 

“And I put this piece away. Never told her.” Sam rubbed his thumb over the scrap of material. He closed his eyes and the sense of Dana surrounded him, the way she felt in his arms when she was an infant, the love that had poured out of her unconditionally. It had been unlike anything he had ever felt in his life. It had changed him…it had given him the room to change himself.

“And this…” John held up the ring. “Dean had this made for you. It’s not quite as elaborate as the one you gave him…but he had it rushed, because he wanted you to have it so badly. It was after the blowback.”

He put it in Sam’s other hand. “I was still pretty weak, and he was moving slow…He asked me to stop working…” It had been before they found the healing power, before they stepped in to make him realize he was killing himself with his guilt and self-denial. Before that love that had started with Dana all those years before had finally redeemed him.

Solemnly, Sam slid the ring onto the ring finger of his left hand, where it belonged. He breathed in and out slowly, then opened his eyes. “Now I’m ready.”

 

Dean was nearly ready. He had the ritual mapped out. He had what he needed, even though it was damn near impossible to find mistletoe at this time of year. 

There was only one obstacle. There was no way to get both Missouri and Dana out of the house at the same time. He sat on his bed and sorted through the elements he needed. He wanted to be ready when the opportunity came.

There was a quick knock on his door and Dean pulled the comforter back, hiding his stuff as the door opened. “Dad?”

“Yeah?” He looked up. She was frowning at him. “Is something wrong?”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Always.”

She closed the door and came to sit on the end of the bed. She seemed nervous…very not Dana-like. “Honey, what is it?”

“I’ve been thinking…about Bellius, and me.” She was very serious, her eyes on her knees. “I—I always thought that I should know stuff…that it was important to be able to fight with anything and everything.” She made a face. “I never understood why you and Sam got so upset. I mean, Sam used dark stuff and you never said anything to him…but now…I think maybe I understand.”

“Honey, you know Sam and I only ever wanted to protect you. You are nothing like that monster in the garage.”

She nodded, then looked up at him, her green eyes bright with unshed tears. “I miss Sam.”

“Me too, honey. Me too.”

She put a hand down as she leaned in to kiss his cheek, pulling it up sharply. “Ow. What the—“ Before he could stop her, she pulled the comforter back. “Dad?”

Dean sighed and lowered his head. 

“What is this?” Her hand reached for the book, lifting it and opening it to his marked page. “Shit.” Her eyes skimmed over the page, then over the stuff spread out on Sam’s side of the bed. “You were going to try this…without one of us there to protect you?”

“I want him dead.” Dean said, his own voice cold in his ears. “I don’t want him here when Sam comes home.”

“Nothing I’ve said has penetrated that thick skull, has it?” Dana asked, standing. “I have half a mind to lock you in your room like a fucking kid.” She paced away. “We can’t just kill him.”

“Maybe you can’t. But I can.” Dean said, standing himself now. “Besides, that only makes him mortal.”

Dana sighed and shook her head. “You agreed to wait.”

“Only so you’d leave me alone.” Dean said, not sure why he was being truthful now. 

“You’re impossible. Do you know that?” She stalked to the door, the book still in her hands. 

“Dana, give me the book.”

“No.” She walked out of the room and Dean followed, but the door slammed in his face. 

He reached for the doorknob, but it didn’t budge. “Dana, let me out.”

“Not until you come to your senses.” Dana said through the door.

Dean wiggled the doorknob, at least until it got hot. Then he let go of it and pounded on the door. “Dana Elizabeth Winchester open this door.”

Dana didn’t answer, and Dean got the impression she wasn’t even there anymore. “Dana?” He sighed and moved back to the bed. “Yeah, good move Winchester.”

 

The drive home seemed to take forever…at least to Sam who had slept while Missouri drove them out. Sam hadn’t even wanted to take time to get changed, and so he was still in the white robes he’d worn at the sanctuary. As they reached Lawrence city limits, Sam reached out to touch his father’s arm. “Stop…can you stop for a minute?”

John nodded and pulled them over the side of the road. “You okay, Sammy?”

Sam got out of the truck. The late afternoon air was chill, almost cold. Sam didn’t answer his father, couldn’t express what he was feeling. Anxious, hungry for Dean’s voice, his touch…to feel him again, and yet….and yet…

Sam took a deep breath and centered himself. “What if he’s still angry?”

John was leaning against the truck, watching. “He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Talked to him this morning, while you were finishing up your session.”

Sam nodded. He stopped, feeling…something. Dana. He let her brush up against his shields, let her feel her way around them and slowly he opened to her, reached for her.

_Hey._

He was slammed with a dead-on shot of full-bore Dana, giggling and excited. Under that he got the sense that she was tired, worn a little thin, concerned, worried.

_What’s wrong?_

There was a flurry of reassurance before actual words. _Nothing. Just tired. Where are you?_

_Just into Lawrence. Be home in about twenty minutes._ He reached a little more strongly for her, felt a surge of energy signatures around her. He recognized Dean and Missouri…and there was something else…something strong. _Dana?_

He felt her putting up walls. _I’ll explain when you get here._

He opened his eyes and headed for the truck. His apprehension about what kind of reception he would get evaporated under concern for what she was hiding. John wasted no time getting back behind the wheel.

“Did Dean say anything about Dana when you talked to him?”

“Dana? No. Why?”

Sam chewed on his lip. “She’s hiding something.”

John snorted. “When isn’t she??”

“It felt…wrong.” He couldn’t shake it. It felt wrong, yet familiar somehow. As they rounded the corner onto their street, it snapped into place. It was the thing that attacked him. It was there. At the house.

He scanned the house as they came to a stop. It seemed contained. Closed off. Sam’s eyes focused on the garage door. It was in there.

Then the front door of the house opened and Aristotle came running for him, barking and bouncing like she was a puppy again. The puppy came tearing out after her, barking and yipping, though it was fairly clear he wasn’t sure what all the excitement was about.

Remmy came to a screaming halt as Sam bent and Ari bathed his face with her tongue. He looked at Sam and John and barked at them. Dean wasn’t far behind the puppy, and Remmy looked to him, for approval. Sam’s eyes followed the puppy’s, and his heart skipped, his eyes sliding over Dean, his breath stopping. He would almost swear Dean had gotten more devastatingly beautiful while he was gone.

Before Sam even raised a hand, he reached for him mentally, the old familiar connection snapping into place almost audibly. They both gasped and fell together, psychically first, then physically.

Dean’s arms wrapped around him, grabbed handfuls of robe and dragged him closer, squeezing until Sam was fighting to get enough air to keep standing. Across their connection was an endless loop of _love you_ and _missed you_ and wordless, formless waves of emotion that were nearly overwhelming after weeks of being disconnected. When Dean’s hands finally released his clothing, they grabbed at Sam’s face, his lips skipping over his skin, cheeks, chin until finally finding his mouth. 

Their first touch was soft, reverent, moist with tears Sam hadn’t realized he was crying…or maybe they were Dean’s. He didn’t really know…didn’t care…just knew he needed _this_ , needed _more_ …and as he opened his mouth and Dean’s tongue slid inside it was both of those, intense and it took his breath away.

He was aware of Dana then, waiting with mock impatience, standing an arm’s length away. He pulled up, reached for her and she joined them, laughing and wrapping herself around them. Sam kissed her cheek and forehead and hugged them both to him.

Information surged between them without words, their three heads pressed together, arms looped around and hands holding one another close. By the time John cleared his throat and they all came up for air, Sam had the gist of everything that had happened with him gone, and Sam had filled them in on the basics of what he’d been through.

Sam was the quickest to recover, and he ran a hand over Dean’s chin, with a beard nearly equal to the one their father was sporting. “What’s this?”

Dean responded by grabbing a handful of robes and raising an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

Sam laughed and kissed him again. _I like it_. Remmy barked, wiggling his little puppy body between their legs, using his butt to push Sam’s legs.

Dean ran a hand over the hair a little self consciously, then John was pulling him into a hug and Remmy switched his attentions to John. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

Sam dropped back as Dana took her turn to hug John, bending over to scratch at Aristotle’s insistent head and cooing to her until Missouri stepped out of the garage. He met her eyes, read the tired expression. It was similar to Dana’s. Keeping it contained was draining them.

His eyes met Missouri’s and she smiled. “Sam, look at you.”

He grinned and went to hug her, scanning her and pulling back with concern. “You need a break.”

She shook her head. “You just got home. You need to love on your family. I’ll be fine.”

“No.” 

Missouri took a step back from the force he accidentally sent out with the word. She raised an eyebrow. “My, my. You’ve grown.”

He lowered his eyes, blushing. “Sorry. Still learning how to handle it.”

“Sam, let us take care of this, at least until morning.” Dana said as she slipped in beside Missouri. “In the morning we can talk about it.”

“Sam…I’ve got dinner almost ready.” Dean said, slipping an arm around his waist, his other holding the still squirming and barking puppy. Remmy took one look at Missouri and stopped barking, licking his lips and putting his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Come inside.”

Sam exhaled and nodded. “Okay. But tomorrow—“

“Tomorrow.” Dana pushed him toward the house.

Dean pulled him in, threading his fingers through Sam’s and not stopping until they were in the kitchen behind a closed door. Dean put the puppy down near the food dishes, then turned to Sam.

Sam let Dean push him up against the wall, his hands sliding over Sam as if mapping out forgotten territory. Dean’s eyes were filled with lust and love and maybe just a touch of fear.

Across their link Sam could feel that fear echoed, mixed with shame and guilt…images of Dana and the fight in the church, of Dean drinking himself into oblivion filled the space between them, and Dean’s desperation when Sam left. 

_I’m here, Dean. Right here. And I’m fine. I’m good._

Dean’s kiss was as desperate as his words had been that day Sam left, his hands threading through Sam’s hair. Sam pulled him close, surrounded him, pulled Dean inside him.

_Thought I’d lost you._ Dean’s hands pulled at Sam, at his robes, his hair, seeking contact. _Thought I’d lost you forever._

Sam could feel his anguish, the tilt of his stomach as he thought it, as the memory rushed through him, _Sam lying still in his arms, bloody and dying._ Sam pulled back, caught Dean’s hands and held them, kissing Dean’s face and breathing in the smell of home. “You didn’t lose me Dean.” Sam’s lips caught Dean’s, his tongue slipping through and sliding across Dean’s. “The only thing lost is the man I used to be before you and Dana. He’s gone forever.”

Dean surged inside him, touching him mentally and physically and Sam lifted his head, as Dean’s lips traveled over his chin and onto his neck. Arousal swept through him, something he hadn’t felt since he left…desire burned, circling around them both and Sam didn’t need hands or lube or nakedness. He was going to come just like that, just from having Dean in his arms, in his head, filling him up. 

Sam groaned and shivered as it happened and Dean only pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. _Want you so much._ Sam pulled him back, lips pressing against Dean’s. _Don’t want dinner…want to get you naked and get you sweaty and inside me._

Dean was panting as he nodded, his body pressed against Sam’s. His hand fisted in the front of his robes and he pulled the door open, dragging Sam through it and toward the stairs. “Going to help Sammy get settled. Watch dinner.” Dean said to Dana as she looked up from her Papa’s lap. 

Sam sensed her amusement and the way she slammed the privacy wall up before they’d even gotten to the third stair made him smile. Dean yanked when Sam wasn’t moving fast enough and they stumbled the last few steps and through the doorway of their room, tripping over Remmy who was racing to get to the bed. 

Sam laughed when Dean finally let go of him and they turned to find Rembrandt sitting dead center on the bed, looking from Dean to Sam and back again. “I think your dog wants to know what we’re doing.” Sam said, sticking his hand out to let Remmy sniff at it.

“Worse than a kid.” 

“He’s just protecting you. Probably doesn’t really remember me.” Remmy sniffed and stood up, inching closer. He yelped when Dean caught him by the belly and lifted him off the bed.

“You can protect me later little man. Right now I want to do my own kind of remembering.” Dean scooted Remmy’s little butt out the door and shut it.

Sam doubled up Dana’s wall with a sound dampening one and was already reaching to start pulling clothes off of Dean when Dean stepped away. “You first.”

“Me first?”

Dean nodded. “I want to see that fine ass and those killer abs.”

“You’re just not sure how to get the robes off.”

“Well, that too.”

“That’s easy.” Sam caught mental hooks in either shoulder and gave a shrug, ripping the robes down the center and dropping them to the floor. Dean stared, open mouthed. Sam blushed at the excessive use of his newly discovered power. “Sorry…that was a little…showy.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam got the challenge instantly, crossed his arms and flicked a thought at Dean’s shirt. It ripped and fell open, revealing his own fairly muscular stomach and chest. Sam felt his cock stirring for a second go. “I am one lucky man.” Sam breathed as he closed the distance between them, pulling Dean to him and dropping the remnants of his t-shirt. 

He kissed down Dean’s neck and over his shoulder. Slowly, Sam went to his knees, tongue and teeth and lips marking the way. His fingers pulled at the zipper and button of Dean’s jeans, sliding them down, chasing the fabric with his lips. He groaned as the musky smell of Dean met his nose and his cock bobbed to life in front of him. 

_Eager boy?_

Sam grinned up at him. _Been celibate a month. Horny._

Sam opened his mouth and took Dean in, earning a groan from him. _Now who’s the eager boy?_

“Want you.” Dean was pulling on him, urging him up.

“Way ahead of you.” Sam got up and went for the lube, lifting one knee onto the bed before reaching behind himself with a lubed up finger. 

_You sure you don’t want to be on top?_

Sam looked over his shoulder, reached for Dean mentally and pulled him closer. _Want you inside of me, all the ways you can be._

Dean grinned and licked his lips. Sam tossed him the lube and got up on the bed, laying on his stomach and canting his hips up, tucking two pillows under him. With mental fingers he stroked over Dean’s body, urging him faster, closer. 

“Easy Sammy…don’t want to break you your first night home.” Dean murmured, but even as he said it he was settling the tip of his cock at the opening of Sam’s ass. His hand slid up Sam’s back and down again. 

His movement forward was slow, sliding in on an abundance of lube despite the less than full prep work. Sam groaned, sinking into the familiar heat. Dean kept moving until his cock was deep inside and then he leaned forward, laying over Sam’s body. “Missed you Sammy…missed you so damn much…don’t ever want you to leave me again.”

_I came back to you Dean…need you…always need you._

Sam opened up their connection to full, let the feeling of Dean swarm into him, penetrating him the way his cock did. They writhed around one another, bodies and minds fucking with abandon, rubbing pleasure centers that had Sam nearing his second orgasm rapidly.

Mentally Sam added the sensation of a tongue licking at Dean’s balls and Dean yelled out in surprise, his rhythm stuttering and his orgasm spilling into Sam. _Not fair_. Dean rolled off and Sam rolled on to his back, his cock standing up bright and red. Before he could say a word, Dean was leaning over him and sliding his mouth over Sam’s cock. 

It didn’t take much, and Sam was yelling, thrusting up into Dean’s mouth as he came. Dean was grinning when he sat up, wiping at his mouth. “Welcome home Sammy.”

Sam held out his arms and Dean came to lay beside him, his head on Sam’s shoulder. He was still thin, his eyes still sunken, though not as dark as they’d been when he left. Some of that Sam knew how to fix. He tapped his healing power and let it wash around him…them. Dean’s eyes opened as he felt it flow into him, righting some of the balances, feeding energy into him in much the same way he’d done for Sam. 

_Relax and let me._ Sam thought at him as he felt Dean starting to tense. _Trust me._

The warmth grew, and Sam could feel Dean’s body respond. It wasn’t the same as it was for Sam when he used the healing power, but it was good. Sam could feel that.

When they both opened their eyes, Dean was hard again and slightly sweaty. “You said something about getting sweaty, I didn’t think that’s what you meant.”

Sam laughed and kissed over his face. “I feel like a teenager again…give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to fuck you.”

Dean reached for his cock and moaned. “Keep doing that freaky thing with your mind powers and I’ll be dead in five minutes.”

Sam grinned, reaching for Dean’s hands and pinning them as he rose up and straddled his body. “Maybe we should go for the record.”

He pulled up the memory of a night long before, a night before Dean had known who Sam was…before Dana had entered their lives…a night of debauchery. It wasn’t his proudest moment…but Dean had come ten times that night.

Dean shook his head. “Don’t even think about it, Sam. I’m not…I’m…”

Sam held his wrists and raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me that you’re too old?” 

“No. I’m not saying I’m too old.” 

Sam sent a thought sliding over the skin of Dean’s dick and he jumped. “Jesus Sam.”

He grinned. Licked his lips, sending the sensation of his tongue over the head. “Fuck.”

“Patience.” Sam said, concentrating now. He held Dean trapped and used his mind to stroke him, alternating between tongue and fingers until Dean was bucking up and cursing a blue streak. 

“Sammy!” 

Sam grinned and closed a mental fist over him. Dean bucked and came all over Sam’s hand. “That’s two.” Sam said.

“I have the feeling Dana and Dad are eating alone tonight.”

 

Dean groaned before he was fully awake. His body protested even the slightest movement. Morning light streamed in the window, but he knew they’d only been asleep a little while. Sam snored lightly in his ear, his body half over Dean and damn if he didn’t have a serious case of morning wood.

Dean was fairly certain his own cock wouldn’t be interested in sex again for at least twenty-four hours. Sam had been determined…and deliciously dirty. They hadn’t made it anywhere close to ten times, but Sam had beaten his personal best. The last time had been incredible, with Sam coming in Dean’s ass while his mind had filled Dean’s head with the sensations that it was Dean’s cock in Sam’s ass. They had collapsed and slept, and now Dean needed a seriously hot shower. There was come everywhere, on his chest, in his ass, coating his poor, abused cock. 

He eased toward the edge of the bed, but just as he nearly got free of Sam’s arm, Sam moaned and pulled him across the bed and right back against him. “Dude, gotta pee.”

He wasn’t sure Sam was even awake. “My Dean,” he mumbled, tugging Dean still closer.

_Yours, Sammy. Still gotta pee._ Dean sent to him. Sam moaned again and rolled on his side, his eyes opening just a little.

Dean smiled at him, running a hand over his cheek. “Love you.”

Sam smiled sleepily. “Love you.” 

Dean kissed him lightly and pulled away. “Still need to pee. Gonna shower, wanna join me?” Sam moaned and shook his head, 

_Sleep. Come back to bed._

Dean got his feet on the floor and leaned over to kiss Sam’s forehead. “You sleep. I’ll check on Dana and make breakfast.”

Sam groaned and reached for him, but was already half way back to sleep. Dean grinned as he headed for the bathroom, walking more than a little stiffly due to aching muscles and the dried up come in his ass. He’d never admit it, but maybe he was getting too old for marathon sex sessions.

He relieved himself and got in the shower, sighing in relief as the hot water flowed over him. He stood under the stream for a long time before he soaped up. It felt good. Damn good. In fact, aside from the aches Dean hadn’t felt this good since Yosemite.

He toweled off and pulled on sweats and a t-shirt and headed downstairs, not surprised to find Dana sucking on coffee with her nose buried in a text book, Aristotle asleep at her feet, Remmy in her lap. She looked up and smiled at him.

“Morning.”

Dean kissed the top of her head, and reached for Remmy. “Morning. You got classes today?” Remmy evaded his hand and moved to lay with Aristotle. Dean frowned at him.

“Not until one.”

“Breakfast?”

“Pancakes?”

“I can do that. Missouri in the garage?” Dean reached for Remmy again, and this time he turned his little head away, pointedly not looking at Dean.

Dana shook her head. “Sent her home to get some sleep. Sam was right. She was exhausted.” She looked up at him. “Don’t worry, we shored up the field and knocked him out. He’s tucked in tight.”

“I hope there’s more of that coffee.”

“Fresh pot.” Dana held out a hand and Remmy came to her, tossing his head sassily. “I think he’s mad at you.”

Dean leaned over her shoulder. “Is that the problem? Mad because I kicked him out of our bed?” He scratched Remmy’s ears. “Would bacon make it up to you?”

Remmy licked his lips and let Dean pick him up.

“You do know he doesn’t actually understand you?” Dana asked.

“Nonsense. Remmy and me, we got a connection.”

“Whatever.” Dana turned her nose back to her book and Dean headed for the kitchen, determined to make Sam a breakfast fit for a king, and win back Remmy’s affection with some bacon.

 

Sam woke to the smell of coffee and bacon…and sex. The room was filled with the smell of sex. He opened his eyes and determined that it might have something to do with the mess they’d made of the sheets. There was almost no where that he wasn’t currently laying that wasn’t wet and sticky.

He grinned, remembering how it felt to sink into Dean the first time. He breathed in and reached for Dean, finding him in the kitchen and sliding mental hands over his chest. _Morning babe._

Dean rubbed against him and Sam’s cock twitched. He was hard and wished Dean hadn’t left the bed. He could feel Dean’s chuckle. _Insatiable._

Sam grinned and got himself up out of bed, figured a shower was in order. Ten minutes later he pulled on sweats and a t-shirt and headed downstairs. 

“You two sharing a brain this morning?” Dana asked as he came down the stairs. She sent him an image of Dean in matching sweats and shirt and Sam grinned.

“Apparently.” 

She put her book down and really looked at him. He could sense her scanning him for good measure. “You look good this morning Sam. Really good.” She grabbed her coffee cup off the table and stood up. “Want coffee?”

“Mmmm. Yes please.” His stomach rumbled, reminding him that they’d skipped dinner in favor of reunion sex. 

“Dad’s almost got breakfast ready, why don’t you go sit down.”

Sam stretched and nodded, heading for the table. There was a solid wall between him and the garage. He could feel it. Dana’s attempt to give him some private time before he had to deal with Bellius.

He sat at the table and gave that some thought. An honest to goodness angel…or what most people would call an angel. He’d parsed through Dean’s research, and what Dana had given him of hers. She was hiding something from him though. There was more to the story…or there was more to what she knew…or something.

His thoughts were interrupted by Dana and his coffee, followed by Dean and more food than the three of them could possibly eat, Remmy tagging along behind them, a piece of bacon held in his mouth like a prize. Four of them, Sam amended as John emerged out of the spare bedroom and headed for the table.

“Morning.” John grinned as he snagged a piece of bacon over Dana’s shoulder.

“Morning Daddy.” Sam said, snagging his own piece of bacon. He felt Dean’s eyes and looked up. “What?”

“Daddy?” Dean asked, his expression amused.

Sam tossed the bacon at him. “Shut up.”

“I think it’s cute.” Dana said.

“You too.” Sam said, looking to his father who was chuckling. 

“You two leave Sammy alone.” John said when he felt Sam’s eyes. “He’s been through a lot.”

“When you left he was John.” Dean said, sliding into his seat beside Sam.

“So, things changed.” Sam piled his plate with pancakes and reached for the butter. 

“I guess so.” Dean kissed his cheek. _I think it’s cute too…you’re cute…_

Sam responded by reaching with the hand that wasn’t occupied with his cup of coffee to slide it up Dean’s leg, connecting with his cock. _You know what I think is cute? That look right there._

Sam grinned as Dean fumbled for a response while Sam bombarded him with images of other things he thought were cute…including his naked ass with the butt plug bent over a rock in Yosemite. Dana sighed explosively.

“Would you two stop that!” She put her hands in front of her eyes. “Papa, make them stop.”

John chuckled. “You must be leaking out, because I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

Sam blushed and pulled his hand back. “Sorry honey.”

Beside him Dean blustered and tried to hide it by piling his plate with food. Sam laughed. It felt good to be home.

 

“So, tell me what you think, Missouri.” Sam said. It was just him and Dana and Missouri on the sun porch. Aristotle lifted her head and put it in Sam’s lap.

Missouri sighed. “I don’t know Sam. He’s powerful and he’s twisted up right bad.”

“He’s convinced you shouldn’t have your powers because of your past.” Dana said softly. “But he’s done some pretty nasty things himself. He’s completely convinced they’re the right things.”

Sam nodded. He’d learned that from Dana in the first blast of information. Dean had pleaded his case, even told Sam that Dana had stolen the book he needed to end it. Truth was, Sam wasn’t sure himself. He’d never really thought much about angels. Demons he understood. He sighed.

“I should go have a look myself.”

Dean didn’t want him too. Sam had convinced him to go to work with their father, telling him that he wouldn’t do anything without Dean there. And he wouldn’t. Looking wasn’t doing anything.

“You sure you’re ready for that?” Dana asked.

Sam shook his head. “Only one way to find out.” He stood, smoothing a hand down his jeans, then through his hair. It was longer than it had ever been, like Dean’s facial hair. At the retreat, Ally had taken to pulling it back in a rubber band while he was regressed. He wished idly for one now, and was surprised when Dana handed him an elastic band.

“You’re thinking loud.” 

“Thanks.” He pulled his hair back and slipped the band on. “Okay, let’s go.”

Missouri led the way, with Dana following and Sam bring up the rear. Dana dropped the wall as she moved through it and Sam got a better sense of things. The barrier Dana and Missouri had constructed was strong. Behind Bellius stirred, then stood up.

Sam’s jaw clenched. He didn’t look like much in his human form. His eyes skipped over Missouri, sparkled a little when they found Dana…but when they came to Sam they filled with fury.

“You.” He threw himself at the barrier and it shook. “You’re dead. I left you dead.”

“Apparently not.” Sam said dryly. 

“You were ripped to shreds.”

“Yes, I was.” Sam stepped closer, around Dana. “I got better.”

Bellius pushed at the barrier. “Not possible. Evil-doers can’t—“

“Stop.” Sam sent energy with the word, and Bellius was forced to step back. “You’re weak. And I have back up. You’re not getting a second chance.”

The human shell fell away and white-gold light filled the garage. “I am not weak, human.”

“My brother wants to kill you.” Sam held his hand out to Dana and she handed him the book. He held it up. “According to this, I can make you human. Or, I can send you to hell.”

“You can try.”

It was funny, looking in at the caged being Sam had expected to feel rage, hatred, the desire to kill. Instead he felt pity. He sighed and handed the book back to Dana.

“I’m not going to do either.”

“Sam?”

He smiled at Dana. “I’ve got an idea.”

 

“You still angry?” Sam asked, his breath pluming on the cold air.

“Angry? I’m cold.” Dean responded, watching Sam over his shoulder.

Sam grinned. “I could fix that.”

“Better damn well fix something, Sammy.”

“I’m thinking I need to get the camera.” Sam leaned against the back of his SUV, appreciating the long lines of his brother against the tree. 

They’d argued, but Sam had won. Bellius was safely secured with Inda and Ally to watch over him, in a form of stasis for now. Dana was finally able to concentrate on her school work completely. John was back at the garage, looking after the dogs until they got back. Missouri was on a long, well-deserved vacation in Barbados paid for with Sam’s AmEx card.

Dean and Sam were making their way home from transporting Bellius to Inda and Ally. Slowly. Right now, Sam had decided to deal with the lingering anger issues by stripping Dean naked, but for his boots, and tying him to a tree. 

His white ass was nicely decorated with red hand prints. Sam had teased him right up to the point of orgasm and then walked away. “Thought you liked nature, Dean.” Sam teased, moving closer now.

“You’re a goddamn tease.” 

Dean pulled at his wrists, the motion making his ass stick out. Sam moaned and slid even closer, his hands moving over the skin. Even the hand prints were cool now. Sam unzipped himself and Dean stiffened. “Want me to warm you up?”

“Want you to fuck me.” Dean growled.

“My, my, what a dirty mouth. Maybe I should clean it out first.” Sam pulled Dean’s head back, licking over his lips until Dean whimpered, opening his lips for Sam to lick into his mouth. Sam worked over every bit he could reach with the awkward angle. His hand moved between Dean’s ass cheeks, slipping into the hole he’d already slicked up with spit and lube. Dean had squirmed on the end of his tongue for almost a half an hour before Sam changed tactics and starting mouthing his balls. 

“Sam.” Dean echoed the word over their connection. _Sam, Sam, Sam._

He pressed forward, guiding his cock slowly into the heat of Dean’s hole. Dean stilled as he approached complete penetration, his head dropping back onto Sam’s shoulder. Sam wanted to make it last, to take his time, but the temperature was dropping as night approached. It was nearly the end of September, and there was the vague smell of rain in the air. 

Dean’s body was cold to the touch. Sam snapped his hips forward and Dean moaned into his ear. Sam sent heat through the connection, felt Dean respond, his cock swelling even more. Sam moved so that he could drag a hand over Dean’s cock. “Loving nature now?” Sam whispered before licking the outer shell of Dean’s ear.

“Love you.” Dean whispered back, pushing against Sam’s cock. Dean shuddered against him as Sam pressed in and pulled on his cock at the same time, pounding into Dean’s prostate just as his thumb caught under the head where Dean was always super sensitive. “Fuck!”

Sam adjusted his stance so he could repeat the motion, then realized he didn’t need to. He reached inside Dean with a thought, pressing with insistence against the little bundle of nerves, increasing the pressure as he picked up the speed of his thrusting. 

Dean was shaking, but not from cold, his mouth spewing an endless stream of words that made little sense beyond expressing the overwhelming sensation with his incoherence. _pleaseyesmoreSammygodfuckholyshit pleasepleasepleasegodgodgodcan’tneedfuck_

Sam pressed more, though he was nearly overwhelmed himself with keeping track of fucking and stroking and pressing, but it didn’t take much…Dean’s entire body shook as he came violently, spewing sticky hot mess over Sam’s hand and onto the tree trunk. Sam let go and shoved into Dean, coming himself as he held his hand up to Dean’s mouth and felt his tongue licking at the mess.

They were both panting, both sweating despite the cold, as Sam released Dean’s hands. Dean didn’t say anything as he went looking for his clothes. Sam had kind of flung them all over in his haste to get to skin. Unfortunately, he’d also ripped them up a bit in his haste to get to skin. Dean held up his jeans with two raised eyebrows.

Sam grinned, tucking himself back in. “Good thing I brought you a change of clothes. He opened the back of the SUV and pulled out a duffle bag, tossing it to Dean.

“Where’d my underwear go?”

Sam pointed up and Dean’s eyes followed his to where his underwear dangled, ripped beyond repair, from a branch a good ten feet up. Dean shook his head and dug in the duffle. “There aren’t any in here either.”

“Guess you’ll have to go commando then.” Sam said, laughing.

“Next stop it’s my turn.” Dean said, unlacing his boots to get his jeans on. “You owe me.”

“Your turn. Right.” Sam nodded seriously, watching Dean get zipped up and shove his feet back into his boots. “Aren’t you going to tie them?”

“Later. Want to get moving.” Dean got behind the wheel, taking the keys from Sam as he got into the passenger side. Dean pulled them out of the trees and down the dirt lane and onto the road. 

Only a mile down the road, he wrenched the car off the road and onto a dirt lane. 

“You’re still angry.” Sam said, turning to Dean who was grinning and shaking his head.

“Nope. My turn.”

“Dean, we’ll never get home at this rate.”

Dean held up a pair of handcuffs and grinned. “Two words Sammy. My. Turn.”


End file.
